30 Days, 30 Stories
by lrhaboggle
Summary: It's Pride Month, so we've got one story per day about LGBT characters from multiple fandoms including my own original story. Hope you like and have a happy Pride Month!
1. Day 1: First Realization

**AN: I know I'm a bit late, but I've decided to do a little something-something for Pride Month. In essence, it's going to be one short story a day about some LGBT character or couple from fandoms that I'm in. Every odd day will be a fanfic, every even day will be a story from my own original work "Seeing Purple".** **I** **hope you like them and have a happy Pride Month! (Just for the record, I'm a cis-female, pansexual, panromantic who is an LGBT enthusiast and going to my first pride parade this month. Woot woot!)**

Elphaba sat silently on her bed. At the moment, she was lost in some wonderful fantasy novel, rife with adventure and love, chivalry and humor. It was the kind of stuff she adored but was always made fun of for adoring. In the back of her mind, the green girl couldn't help but wonder if romance might someday be possible for her. Of course, she knew it would be hard, given her verdigris, but when she read these fantasy novels, she couldn't help but dream. These books made anything seem possible, including romance, even for those who didn't appear to be outwardly romantic. And that was the thing, Elphaba considered herself to be quite the romantic, she was just never good at translating that knowledge over into reality. Elphaba sighed sadly as she closed the book. The prince and princess had just shared their first kiss and it was so tender and loving that it made Elphaba almost begin to mourn her own lonely little life. When would a guy ever look at someone like her that way?

"Oh, Elphie!?" a voice at the door sing-songed. Elphaba sighed again, but this time, she smiled as she did so. This voice belonged to her bubbly blond roommate, Glinda Upland. Once upon a time, the two had been bitter rivals, but after a hat, a prank gone wrong, an apology and a dance, the two had become friends. Best friends, even. As impossible as it seemed, Elphaba knew that Glinda was someone she considered a best friend and she knew the feeling was mutual. There was just something so special, powerful, beautiful and wonderful about the bond that the two girls shared that it felt impossible to think anything less of that bond. Already, Elphaba knew Glinda was someone she wanted to keep in her life, no matter how much things changed. Already, Elphaba knew that Glinda would be the one to try and stay with Elphaba too, no matter how much things changed. It was this inexplicable knowledge that made Elphaba smile whenever Glinda walked in the room. She was going to be one of the few people to stay after meeting Elphaba. She was going to be the one Elphaba would spend her life with.

"Hey, Glinda," the green girl replied as Glinda pranced into their dorm room happily.

"Do you wanna go down to the quad with me later? I know there's going to be a great fireworks show to celebrate the upcoming summer," the blond asked. She took a seat at her vanity, re-fluffing her already fluffy curls and fixing minor blemishes that only her sharp blue eyes could detect.

"Ah, you know me, I'm not really into loud noises or public places," Elphaba replied with a shrug and a gentle shake of the head.

"Awww, what? Come on, everyone loves a good fireworks show!" the tiny blond pleaded as she turned around to face her stubborn roommate head-on. She even widened her bright blue eyes in attempt to convince Elphaba through her puppy-face.

"No, Glinda, I'm sorry, but I just don't feel comfortable going out to a firework show," Elphaba continued to insist. Glinda kept on pouting but, as Elphaba continued to gently deny her friend's request, it finally sank into Glinda's little blond brain and she finally conceded.

"Ok, Elphie, I get it. You win," she sighed unhappily.

"You can go with some of your other friends," Elphaba suggested, hating to see Glinda looking unhappy.

"But I don't want to go with them!" Glinda insisted almost childishly, shaking her blond curls. "I want to go with _you_!"

"But why me? I'm not exactly the life of a party," Elphaba grinned dryly.

"Doesn't matter. You're my friend. You mean something to me. Isn't that enough for me to want to spend time with you?" Glinda asked, a new level of sincerity within her usually whiny voice. It was enough to give Elphaba pause. Sure, she still hated fireworks and public events, but as she thought about Glinda's proposal, the more and more fun it seemed. It wasn't because the fireworks show was going to be really big, but because Glinda was going to be there and, Elphaba had to admit, anywhere that Glinda went was always a fun place to be.

"How about if we compromise?" Elphaba suggested finally. Glinda gave her an interested look, eyes widening hopefully. Elphaba smiled at her before continuing. "Let's say we go to the beginning of the fireworks show and then we can spend the rest of it relaxing together here. We can watch the finale from the rooftops because, if what you're saying is true, I have no doubt that everyone from here to the Emerald City will be able to see it," Elphaba paused to chuckle while Glinda clapped excitedly.

"Ooooh! What a great idea, Elphie! Half the night at the party and half the night alone together! I like it!" and so, the deal was set.

Many hours later, the two were sitting on the roof of their dorm room, a rope of bedsheets trailing from their window to the roof.

"This really has been a wonderful night," Elphaba told her roommate and best friend as they sat and watched the fireworks together.

"Hasn't it?" Glinda agreed, voice hushed with awe as she leaned against Elphaba's side, wide eyes staring at the rainbow-speckled night sky. Then, slowly, she turned to Elphaba and kissed her cheek. It was a small, soft, gentle little gesture that could've meant nothing in the long run but, for some reason, the moment her lips touched Elphaba's face, Elphaba felt fireworks going off in her own mind as more of them whistled off into the night sky. Even after Glinda had pulled away, staring up at the burning sky again, Elphaba couldn't help but keep watching the little blond and then, little by little, second after second, Elphaba began to wonder if she wasn't maybe a little bit in love with her Glinda. It wasn't something she'd ever considered before then, but when Glinda's kiss refused to leave her mind, even after she and Glinda had climbed back down the room and into bed, Elphaba couldn't help but wonder and the rainbow fireworks in the background weren't helping.

In time, though, Elphaba would wonder how she could've ever felt such passion for Glinda and not realized what it was sooner. She supposed that being raised alone and being raised in a relatively romance and sex free zone meant that such feelings were unknown to her and that she would have no clue what it felt like to be in love. Heteronormativity was one heck of a blinder and being raised without friends meant even the smallest of kind interactions could mean anything from friendship to romance. Now, though, she was 100% sure that she loved Glinda. She, Elphaba Thropp, was in love with Glinda Upland, and when that first realization finally sunk in after a month of assuming it was only friendship, Elphaba felt the fireworks going off once more and she smiled all the way into her dreamland where Glinda waited for her on the other side.

 **AN:** **Kicking it off, we have my first ever LGBT OTP and a (fictionalized) recounting of my own first** **LGBT experience entirely** **. I'd been raised** **in a very queer-friendly home, but since everyone I knew was cis-het, I never really understood what being gay or trans meant until about 9th grade and it was all thanks to Elphaba and Glinda** **. Thanks to them, I** **realized that I wasn't so het either and, in hindsight, I can't believe I ever thought I was straight at all! LOL. So yeah, this is just an ode to Wicked for helping me figure out my sexuality before I even realized it needed to be figured out** **.**

 **(As of June 2019, I'm doing some light edits on all these stories, one per day just like before).**


	2. Day 2: Date

"Not bad," Tempest commented as Storm peered into her cabin's little mirror. She was currently in golden armor. Well, _fake_ , golden armor. It wouldn't really protect her from anything, but it looked heroic enough. _I hope she likes it._ Storm thought nervously as she unconsciously shined the chest piece. It may not have been actual metal, but it could've still used some polishing up from time to time.

"Storm, you look fine," Tempest murmured gently, stopping Storm's incessant polishing. "Besides, it's time for you to go!"

"Oh! You're right!" Storm hissed at herself, she hadn't realized how long finding good date clothing had taken her! She would be late for her date if she dallied any longer! She darted quickly from her cabin, running across Camp Heath with incredible speed.

"Go get 'em tiger!" Tempest called after her, waving from the doorway as her friend vanished from her view and into the shadowy evening.

Storm swallowed loudly as she finally reached her destination. The soldier cabin. She couldn't remember ever being so scared before, even in the heat of battle. It was almost embarrassing, but she was too nervous to care. Waiting just beyond that door for her was Iris, her girlfriend. Was Storm supposed to knock out and announce her presence? Or was she supposed to just wait for Iris to come out herself? Storm inwardly cursed her ignorance, growing increasingly defensive with herself. It wasn't her fault she didn't know all the quirks of dating! She was a soldier, for crying out loud! She shouldn't have to know dating etiquette to be considered a worthy partner! Hopefully, Iris wouldn't be too unforgiving, but at the same time, Storm didn't want pity. She wanted to do this right! Oh, it was just all so confusing! Storm let out a sigh and finally decided just to knock. She silently prayed that she wouldn't mess this up as she rapped on the large wood door looming before her.

"Whoa!" Storm had hoped to have a witty compliment ready, but actually seeing Iris took the words and the breath, right out of her mouth. Iris was in a knee-length, purple dress that matched her eyes and she wore her long, brown, wavy hair in a small bun that still left several brown strands rolling over her spaghetti strap shoulders. It was simple but stunning, like its wearer. Iris chuckled softly at Storm while Storm struggled to keep from slapping her mouth shut. Embarrassment at her foolish, childish reply was kicking in along with allure at how beautiful Iris was and it was frazzling the taller, older woman to no end.

"You look amazing," Iris hummed as she approached her date. "My knight in shining fake armor," she added teasingly.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of what else to wear. Neither suits nor dresses are my thing," Storm grunted defensively. She knew this was a bad idea!

"No, I think it looks wonderful on you," Iris replied gently. "It's very fitting, beautiful and powerful," she reached out to touch a shiny arm plate.

"Thanks," Storm said awkwardly, unused to the compliments. She wasn't one men, or women, called beautiful. She was usually too surly for that! The last time she'd had a girlfriend was like six years ago, in fact, but Iris?

"You look amazing too," Storm said, then she gestured to Iris' little dress. "It matches your eyes." Storm regretted the words as soon as they were out. _It matches your eyes? Witty observation, Storm!_ Storm berated herself silently. Besides, Iris was more than just amazing…

"Thanks," Iris answered, unbothered by Storm's weak compliment. "Shall we head out now?"

"Huh? Oh! Of course!" Storm snapped to attention and offered her arm to Iris again. At least she had that down.

Iris, all the while, masked a smile. It was amusing and endearing to see the normally stoic blond looking so flustered and uncertain. It added a level of humanity to her that Iris found reassuring and cute. Initially, she had been worried that she wouldn't be enough for Storm. That she would be a joke compared to the brave soldier. It wouldn't be the first time she felt that way. That was why she wore such simple clothes. It was something she could manage without making a fool of herself. She wanted to do more, but didn't want to overdo it, so she kept it simple.

But then, Storm had appeared and, suddenly, Iris felt as though nothing would've been good enough for her. Although it was funny to see the normally battle-worn soldier in such fine attire and even though it was funny to know that Storm was wearing her least favorite kind of armor (fake, dress armor), she still looked gorgeous. She really did look like a knight in shining armor and it took Iris' breath away. She was just glad to see that Storm was as nervous as she was. It made Iris feel better about her own self and her rather boring and traditional outfit.

A couple hours later, the happy couple reached their destination. Guastavino's.

"Whoa," for a second time that night, Storm made a fool of herself by ogling the opulence set before her.

"I know right?" Iris grinned proudly as she surveyed her favorite famous restaurant. Even though it had been years since she ate at Guastavino's, Iris still remembered the restaurant well. She led Storm in proudly, delighting in the astounded choke coming from the taller, older woman. If the exterior was gorgeous, it had nothing on the interior, both of its floors covered by finely polished tile and chandleries of glass hanging overhead. There were little candles at the center of every pearly-white clothed table, literal silverware adorning gorgeous white china plates. It was divine!

At last, Iris and Storm were seated. Unfortunately, they were not settled. Iris understood every detail about fine dining, having been raised into this kind of upper class society, but poor Storm had no idea. She was far too blue-collared to be used to dealing with more than one set of forks.

"Why do we have bread already? We haven't ordered-" she began, but before she could finish, while reaching for a roll, she spilled her water glass. The sudden coldness caused the normally composed soldier to recoil, knocking over another plate and most of the rolls. In her haste to catch the plate, she bumped the table, causing everything to shake. Several forks actually fell off as Storm sat back in her chair, cringing when she saw what a mess she'd made. The water had since soaked through the tablecloth and the bread rolls that were still on the table. Iris, all the while, was trying to help, catching falling silverware and food as they clattered to the floor and rolled around like crazy.

"Enough!" a waiter finally barked. Storm instinctively froze, still holding a plate and a soggy roll. Iris flinched, biting her lip and clenching her fist around her part of the tablecloth to keep from laughing or panicking. She hoped she wouldn't get banned from this place.

"I'll pay and we can leave," she offered. Storm watched the exchange in shame, anger and self-loathing. She had made a fool of herself and Iris.

"No, no, that won't be necessary," the waiter grunted, signaling others to help him. Together, the group of waiters cleaned the table while Storm continued to sit motionless. Iris watched nervously, hoping she wasn't on the brink of a meltdown. Storm was clearly our of her comfort zone.

Once the table was clean, Iris and Storm were moved to a place closer to the back. Again, shame blazed in Storm's heart and Iris sat down in embarrassment. A fresh basket of rolls was brought to the new table, but Storm refused to even look at them. Iris gave the woman a pained smile, but Storm wouldn't meet Iris' iris irises either. Then, when somebody came to take their order, after angry looks were exchanged, Iris ordered a simple meal while Storm simply waved the waiter off, refusing to order. Iris exhaled heavily before stopping the waiter.

"She'll have what I'm having," the tiny brunette told the man. The waiter grunted his affirmation before leaving them with a look of disdain.

"Storm?" the purple-eyed girl asked, turning from the haughty waiter back to her date.

"Hmm?" Storm asked back, still staring intently at the tablecloth, unable to look at anything else.

"Are you ok?" Iris touched her arm.

"Fine. Fine," Storm pulled away and looked harder at the table.

"Oh, Storm, I'm not mad," Iris reached over to Storm again, more insistent about holding her. Storm didn't pull away this time, but she still didn't meet Iris' eyes. "May I teach you how to do this?" Iris asked gently.

"I don't need to learn to eat," the blond argued, finally looking up. Her blue eyes were full of fury and self-loathing, Iris hated it.

"Not how to eat, how to manage the utensils," she corrected gently, knowing how badly Storm's pride must be suffering. "It _is_ complicated. Let me be your mentor now!" she continued to plead. And finally, something about Iris' words finally resonated with Storm and the blond yielded.

"No, here, use this fork first," Iris gave the blond one of the longer forks. "You always start from the outside," she covered Storm's hand with her own, helping the woman to cut her food and use the correct silverware and then where to put it when she was done. "There you go!" Iris encouraged. Storm was still humiliated on multiple levels, but the feeling of Iris touching her made it a bit more bearable. She was hardly aware of what she was eating simply because Iris was so close to her, holding her and smiling.

At last, the meal was over. Storm was glad that she had survived it. Iris paid in full and tipped extra, leaving a signed apology note. Storm sighed at the level at which Iris was going to, but she didn't complain.

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can," the blond promised instead as they left the restaurant, all the staff not even bothering to hide their relief as the barbaric woman and her tiny date finally left their establishment.

"Nonsense," Iris waved her offer off as they stepped back outside into the city air. "I got it covered," and it was true. Having been raised here in Labelle, Iris was rich. Storm, raised in a lower part of the country of Denbar, was a bit worse off, but pride kept her from ever accepting charity.

"It's not charity," Iris insisted. "It's a date. A gift. An exchange for all you've had to put up with from me," she gave an adorable smirk as she and Storm recalled how genuinely hopeless Iris had been in her first month of soldiering.

"So then, what do you want to do next?" Storm asked, biting back a sigh of relief now that she was out of that restaurant. As lovely as it had been, it was clear that somebody like her didn't belong there and she knew she probably wouldn't go back any time soon.

"Dessert," Iris responded with a wink. Storm made a face.

"First off, please not another fancy joint. Second off, how are you still hungry?" she asked. Their dinner had been four courses, plus the bread, some salad, and another little appetizer. Storm wasn't sure she would even be able to look at food right now because of how full she was.

"No, not that kind of dessert!" Iris roared with laughter. For a moment, Storm was confused, but then Iris' suggestive joke sank in.

"It's not like we haven't before," Iris answered to Storm's surprised face. "Besides, I think you'll feel more comfortable there," her grin sweetened and Storm swallowed, forcing herself to become smooth and not awkward. Iris knew she was uncomfortable and feeling out of place, so she was using it as a joke. Well, Storm was going to take it back and show how bold she could be, even when out of her element.

"Sounds good then. I hope it'll be extra sweet," she wrapped a long arm around Iris' back and almost picked her up, causing the smaller girl to squeak in surprise. As her mouth opened, Storm swooped in for a kiss. Iris, all the while, fell limp with surprise and pleasure. Storm really knew how to get a girl going, and though Iris found her awkward side cute, she couldn't deny pleasure from Storm's more domineering side.

"Nice," she rasped when Storm pulled away. A huge smirk graced the blond's face.

"Thanks," she answered huskily. "Now let's go home!" she declared as she scooped up her tiny date bridal style and carried her back to the subway. All in all, it wasn't too terrible for a first date. And whatever was next was sure to be a million times better than the dinner ever could've been!

 **AN: So, here's Day 2, using the main ship from my original story.**


	3. Day 3: Torn In Half

**AN: This is a very long, dark, depressing analysis on Christianity and homosexuality. Please do not read if you are sensitive to this topic. There isn't anything too explicitly homophobic, but this story/analysis does bring up some homophobic arguments, so please be sensitive and careful when you read! I don't to upset or offend, just inform.**

 **And for anyone suffering from a similar issue, PM me and I will talk. Cora's story is my story, and although I'm doing much better now, I still haven't forgotten how miserable I was when I was in "Cora mode". If anyone needs a listening ear, I am here. And I will always be here. Just reach out and PM me.**

Cora clenched her fists and tried to take a few calming breaths. She could feel the anxiety welling up in her chest again, but she refused to let it control her. She refused to let it show. She'd already cried enough this morning, and it was barely even noon. The last thing she wanted was to start bawling again. Because of that, she tried to think of something else, _anything_ else, to distract her from her worries. It didn't work.

At last, Cora finally broke down. It seemed as though the stronger and harder she tried to resist, the stronger and harder her demons attacked. Finally, she lost the battle, and tears began to burn down her face. Humiliation, mixed with shame and self-loathing, filled her heart as she continued to sniffle. At the very least, she could try and keep from sobbing like a toddler. She had to bite her lip as hard as she could, but she did manage to stifle her cries to some degree. But even though she was able to keep herself quiet, the tears were still coming in thick.

This had been Cora's life for about two months now and it didn't look like it was going to get better any time soon. She wasn't sure how much more of it she was going to be able to take. The depression, anxiety, guilt, panic, and overall despair were eating away at her. But she was helpless to stop or fix it. She had no idea how to. All she could do was panic and pray, those two activities sometimes existing separately and sometimes happening simultaneously. She was no longer the sweet, innocent, cheerful and benevolent young soul that she used to be. Now, she felt much too old for her body, and far too tired. She felt aged beyond her years and misery had clouded her mind. She was no longer capable of smiling or laughing, or even living. She felt corrupted and sinful, guilty and disgusting. All benevolence, innocence and joy had been sucked from her life.

All Cora could do was hide away in the corner of every room, trying her best not to draw attention to herself. She forever felt one single blow away from a complete and utter meltdown. The only thing she was capable of doing anymore was lying, and she had grown eerily good at it over the past two months that she had been like this: a helpless, nervous wreck, incapable of doing anything else other than fretting and crying and wishing for some kind of escape. For any kind of escape!

But where had all of this started? How had such an innocent and free-spirited child aged into such a miserable and tormented old soul? Well, it all began when political tensions across her town began to rise. One man had been perusing through town with a petition demanding for marriage equality within that town. He wanted to send it to the mayor and have him turn it into a law.

"Will you sign this for marriage equality?" the man had asked, bumping into her as she made her way down the street.

"Marriage equality? What does that mean? Who isn't having an equal marriage?" she asked back, having never heard such a phrase before.

"People in the LGBT community," the man replied, pointing at the rainbow tie he wore.

"LGBT?" Cora echoed.

"Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender," the man replied. Ah! Now Cora remembered! She'd heard of this group before. And she, herself, identified as lesbian, but she had never really been close to the rest of the LGBT community. That wasn't to say that she didn't support them, it just was never something she gave much thought to. She never saw a reason to join a gay group because she had always felt her own sexuality just _was_. There were no questions or conditions. She didn't need other gay people to validate her, she didn't need a community.

But now this man was here, talking to her, telling her about how not everyone was quite as confident in their sexuality as Cora was. He told her that not a lot of people even had the _privilege_ to be so relaxed and confident in it. He showed her a set of very alarming and depressing statics, saying that queer folk were much more likely to be jobless, homeless and/or suicidal than a cisgender, heterosexual person. It made perfect sense to Cora and she signed the petition immediately thereafter.

"Why wouldn't we want marriage equality?" she asked as she signed, genuinely confused as to why a petition like this had to exist at all. Shouldn't this have been a right from the start? But apparently this was another false idea of hers.

"You would hope," the man agreed darkly as he prepared to find another person to sign his petition. "But you would be surprised…" then he left Cora alone with that ominous note ringing in her ears. It never stopped.

In the weeks to come, when the question of what "But you would be surprised…" meant refused to leave Cora alone, she finally decided to do a little digging. Then it all became hideously and painfully clear. One of the biggest dissenters of marriage equality and the LGBT community was the church. Cora was able to find plenty of affirming churches (it seemed like more and more were choosing that path every day) but there were still so many left that preached out against this sort of lifestyle that Cora found it both genuinely shocking and quite chilling. Was being queer really that bad? In her mind's eye, it had only ever been something uncommon and different, but not necessarily evil or backward. It was like being left-handed. It definitely wasn't normal or common, but it wasn't ever considered a crime!

But as Cora continued to do her research and ask around, the more and more painfully clear it became. Regardless of whether or not homosexuality was actually a sin and regardless of what she or anyone else thought about the matter, there was clearly a large group of people that not only believed this claim, but supported it fervently and had a slew of arguments to back up that belief. Even if the arguments were all hooey, the intensity with which this group of people clung to them was what frightened Cora the most. It made her pause. It made her double-take. It made her reconsider. Could they really be right? Could this "homophobic" group actually be correct? They were so adamant about their beliefs against homosexuality that Cora figured that it was worth at least listening to. No one who wasn't serious in their beliefs would ever go this far to spread their message. Even if these people were wrong, they were clearly convinced that they were right, and Cora was interested in seeing how and where such a mindset had developed. She would regret this decision very soon.

Soon, Cora's own faith was shaken, and she began to wonder if homosexuality was a sin after all. All of the arguments she heard were reasonable (enough). Even if they sounded insane, the claims were not 100% wrong. There were places in the Bible that condemned homosexuality and there were verses to back up the idea that some people would misconstrue these statements and try to insist that homosexuality was ok in the eyes of God. It did say that the Earth would be deceived, and start spreading misinformation about God's word and his Law. The Bible talked about a falling away, and a splitting apart of the Church. That sounded an awful lot like right now…

But what really shook Cora to the bone was when her local church got a new priest. Her own church used to be very kind, open, welcoming and friendly. They were against homosexuality, but they weren't vehement, violent or aggressive about it. Cora just had never realized before because although she did consider herself a Christian in the sense that she believed in God, the Father, Creator and Lord of all, she wasn't exactly very good at attending church. And admittedly, this was the first time she'd read her Bible since her Sunday School classes that she took as a little kid. This whole research into the LGBT community had been the first time she'd opened her Holy Book in years. And it was the first time she'd ever walked into her church with more than just trying not to sleep through the sermon on her mind.

The new priest was a kindly old man but he, like most of the other people in the church and in the town, was against homosexuality.

"God designed one man and one woman for procreation, anything more or less is a sin," he said, voice soft and gentle, not at all hateful or harsh.

"But why?" Cora dared to ask.

"Because God wanted mankind to be fruitful and multiply, so he gave man a woman and he gave both of them the ability to bear children. Sex is only for procreation and procreation can only happen between opposing sexes. Neither two men nor two women can procreate, therefore, they cannot perform one of God's most basic purposes for mankind," he continued.

"But why?" Cora asked again, feeling a little embarrassed that she couldn't think of anything smarter to say.

"It is just the way the Lord works," the priest shrugged. He didn't mind any of her questions at all.

Cora continued to speak with the wise and kindly old man for a little bit longer, still unable to fully understand the problem here. She understood that God had created humans to make more humans. And she understood that in order for this to happen, there needed to be one male and one female. But what Cora didn't understand was why homosexuality was somehow bad enough to be seen as a sin. So what if God hadn't intended for homosexuality to happen? Just because it was unintended didn't mean it had to be unallowed! How many fantastic inventions of mankind came from mistakes or accidents? And all of these inventions in general were not things that had come out of the Bible, nor out of God's hands directly. For example, God had not handed Adam and Eve electricity, yet Cora lived in a world where such a thing was possible. And as were cars, and moving pictures! Those were all unnatural, made up by man, yet no one ever accused them of being unholy or inappropriate!

But, as time passed, Cora began to see the preacher's logic. He had a point. No one could deny that God wanted people to reproduce, and no one could deny that there needed to be a man and a woman to do that. By that logic, homosexuality made no sense and served no purpose. In addition, as Cora continued to read her Bible and attend church more often, she began to see other things in humanity that needed to be fixed, beyond the realm of homosexuality.

First and foremost, being a Christian meant following the words of God and Jesus, and trying to live life the way that they had. By that logic, one would need to read the Bible in order to know what God and Jesus thought about certain topics, and what they believed and did. With that knowledge, then, the Christian in question would be able to start pursing a godly lifestyle, by following the Bible like an instruction manual. But another part of Christianity was to be faithful, and to believe and obey God no matter what. Many stories of the Bible detailed how precisely a true Christian followed God's word, and the answer was always: to the letter.

If that were the case, though, the whole problem with homosexuality shouldn't have been a thing. As painful as it was to admit, the Bible did condemn homosexuality, and the Bible was clear about that. There shouldn't have been all this debate about whether or not those verses were meant to be taken at face value. As Cora had come to see it, to debate the Bible was to debate God. To debate God was to doubt God. And no doubter in the Bible ever had a happy ending. They were either defeated because of their faithlessness, or they were changed into believers anyway and saved that way. But either way, the endgame was the same: only the faithful made it into God's good graces. To doubt the Bible, then, was to doubt God. And to doubt God too much made it impossible to be a Christian. Sure, even the greatest of his disciples faltered at times and lost their faith, but if one continued to question God day in and day out, then they weren't really a Christian at all. The way Cora saw it, a true Christian was characterized by their desire to follow God. How could one follow God if they were constantly challenging him and trying to change things?

And another thing that bothered Cora, though everyone was guilty of this sin to some degree, was all the cherry-picking. So many times people would cleave desperately to the parts of God's sermons that served them, but then they would conveniently forget, ignore or make excuses for everything else. What if that's what the pro-LGBT groups were doing, even if they didn't even realize it? What if they were misinterpreting the Bible because they wanted to believe that homosexuality was ok with God? It was a chilling thought, but it was one that refused to let Cora go. And she began to grow indignant at the very thought. It was a bit of a cheat to twist the Bible to further one's own agenda. One had a sacred duty as a Christian to do as the Bible said, not to make the Bible do as the Christan said.

But it wasn't even just the hypocrisy that Cora began to notice and question. It was also one of the reasons homosexuality was so hated. Homosexuality wasn't hated because it was two people of the same sex. It was hated because it went against God's orders, and anything that went against God's orders was a sin, and any unrepentant sin was tallied against a person on the day of judgment. At the very root of it all, the true reason behind the hatred for homosexuality was because it went against God's word and God's design…

Before this time in Cora's life, Hell had only been the stuff of a child's nightmare, but after the whole 'God and Gays' issue came up in her life, Hell became much realer, much scarier, and much hotter. They were things Cora no longer only saw on rough nights. On the contrary, they were things that Cora began to see all day, every day. She began to face Hell every single second of her life, and it was a battle she was finally, slowly, starting to lose…

Cora used to think that Hell was only for really bad people, but according to the Bible, every single person who ever lived, or who would ever live, automatically deserved Hell, just because humans were inherently flawed and broken creatures, and it all went back to the Original Sin of Adam and Eve. It didn't seem fair to Cora, at first, but the more research she did into the topic, the more it made sense, though she hated to admit as such. But the way she saw it, if one was a Christian, they believed in God and _everything_ he said and commanded, even if it was… unsavory. So if one truly believed in God, they had to believe in Hell too. And if one believed in Hell, they had to believe in sin, punishment, eternity and judgment. It was a scary thing, but it made logical sense to Cora. That which she used to dismiss, was starting to creep back into her life, and it was all finally starting to make sense now.

In time, Cora began to genuinely fear Hell. It seemed like, no matter where she went or what she did, she was surrounded by sin, and wherever there was sin, there was Hell, and Cora did NOT want to go to Hell. It was like a person who became aware that they needed to breathe, and then they would start thinking about breathing, and it would be next to impossible to stop thinking about breathing. The more Cora became aware of what God and Jesus really said about Hell, the more frightening and real it became to Cora. Suddenly, she was no longer that moderate, lukewarm Christian, instead, she became one of the very religious nuts she used to scoff at. She began helping her new preacher hold rallies against the queer community, talking about how a gay person could be saved if they just didn't ever act on their desires. She began to preach the idea of sin and salvation and how it related to queer people. She became the girl to say that one could love the sinner but hate the sin, and she became the person that talked about how homosexuality could be overcome and how she was on that path right now.

"I am gay, but I know I'm saved because I'm not acting on it!" Cora declared to an uncaring and bemused public.

"So what? That's your choice. But it ain't mine," someone muttered.

"But if you would only listen, it might be worth it!" Cora pleaded. "I know none of you wants to give up something that means so much to you, but be rational. Is an eternity in Hell worth about 80 years of sin?"

"Yeah, but how do you even know you're right? How can you be so arrogant as to claim to know who God will send to Hell?" someone said.

"Because it's in the Bible!" Cora argued. "And a true Christian follows the Bible because it shows devotion to God!"

"What about the other crap no one follows?! And how do you know which parts of the Bible are true?! It wasn't like it all came from one source at one time! It was a collection of works spanning across centuries after Jesus died! And some parts were even voted out before the final manuscript as we know it came into place! Are we supposed to follow all of those lost verses as well? Or can we elect to ignore them too?!" the same person laughed cruelly and Cora was at a loss for words.

The rest of the crowd took the opportunity to gang up on her, asking her how she even knew if there was a God, or how she was so sure _she'd_ go to Heaven and not anyone else.

"But what if you're wrong?" Cora asked weakly, confidence waning as the angry crowd circled her like a pack of hungry dogs.

"And I don't know if I'm going to Heaven, but I'm trying and that should be enough. I've got good intentions!"

"But what if YOU are the one who's wrong? You're the only one spreading hate around here anyway. Not a very godly thing to do, am I right?!"

"Besides, what about that story in the Bible where God kills a man for disobeying a command even though he was only doing it with the best intentions?" someone shouted and Cora took a step back as the words, "bigot", "hate-speech", "religious nut" and "homophobe" assaulted her ears.

"Good intentions can still get you sent to Hell, sweetheart! God cares not for the innocent. He slaughtered the first-born sons of Egypt, infants who had done nothing wrong, yet he still killed them all anyway. What makes you think you're so safe?!"

Cora had fled from her little podium then, another anxiety attack taking over. She had gone from being a girl who was knew that she was gay, yet not being too concerned by it, to a "straight" hardcore Christian. A very swift development to occur all in the span of a couple months. But it seemed as though the more she tried to literally straighten herself out, the more gay she became, so to speak. She couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to have a girlfriend, even though her new lifestyle prohibited her from having one. And she couldn't stop second-guessing herself and wondering if she wasn't wrong after all, and if she really was wasting her life by trying to act as someone, _something_ , she was not.

She became a nervous wreck, torn in half by these two important and conflicting identities that she held. She was gay and Christian but, in her mind, these two titles were irreconcilable and one of them had to go. As much as it pained her to say, it seemed that her identity as a lesbian was a safer bet. Perhaps it seemed stupid, but by the logic she was using now, it made sense. Was it better to indulge in being gay now and then spend an unfathomably long time suffering in Hell? Or was it better to forgo her desires for about 70 more years and then spend an eternity in bliss with her God and King to whom she owed her very life?

But a small part of Cora still didn't want to give up her LGBT identity. Unluckily for her, she had just started to take pride in who she was when the whole world came crashing down on her, telling her that this pride was not a good pride, but a sinful and indulgent one that would get her into trouble. But even though her worldview had shifted and started to tell her that her identity as a lesbian was selfish and dangerous, she still wanted to take pride in it. She _wanted_ to have a girlfriend. She _wanted_ to have a wife. She _wanted_ to feel ok with herself and with being attracted to other women. She didn't want to have to change, or feel like she had to change. She didn't want to have to settle for being single or marrying a man. She knew that romance was more than just sex, but she wanted a woman, not a man. The temptation was getting stronger every day and the harder Cora tried to follow God, the harder her desires pulled her back.

Cora was disgusted with herself and her weak resolve and how back-and-forth she was in her commitment to God. She was disgusted with herself and her inability to find any attraction to men, no matter how kind or handsome they were. She was disgusted with herself and the queer community for flaunting their Hell-bound lifestyles and reveling in them. Couldn't they see how tempting they were being? Couldn't they see how wrong they were? Couldn't they see how dangerous their prides were? How many other souls were they leading astray in their own self-destructive paths? Couldn't they just keep it down a little? Did they have to be so open? If they wanted to ruin their afterlife, so be it, but it was selfish of them to drag others down with their rainbows and glitter. Pretty as they were, it went against God's orders and anything that did that was ugly in the end.

But Cora couldn't really believe that. In her heart of hearts, she couldn't really bring herself to believe that… And it had been said that those who truly strove to follow God would have the peace of God in their hearts, but Cora knew damn well she hadn't felt at peace since that politician came to town and caused her to rethink her entire outlook on life. Instead, she had been nothing short of a nervous wreck, Bible never leaving her side because of how often she consulted it to make sure what she was doing was ok with God.

She wouldn't even leave her house without making sure her destination was a God-approved one. That meant no more bars or parties and meant no more walks to the park if anything sinful was going on there. That meant she wouldn't read anymore books except the Bible and wouldn't listen to any music except for hymns and she no longer watched any TV except for reruns of old, recorded services in days gone by. She had thrown out most of her old clothing that was too immodest or flashy.

A huge chunk of her old identity had been burned away in the span of two months, and replaced by a God-shaped hole in her heart that was getting fuller and fuller every day… She hated it! She hated what she was, and what she had become, and what she was still becoming. She hated the fear, anxiety, guilt, worry and loss. She had no idea who she was anymore and, frankly, she didn't care. She had no idea who she was anymore because of how much she'd sacrificed for God. She was nothing but an empty vessel now, a clean slate for whatever God wished her to be. She had no more individuality, just a vessel for God to control and command. The only problem was that God was totally silent.

"Come on, God, come on! I've surrendered my life and soul to you! I promised I would do whatever you asked of me! I gave up my homosexuality for you! Why won't you send me some sign?!" Cora screamed, on her knees, but there was no answer. There never was…

The poor, frightened, confused, lost and lonely girl spent the next hour alternating between frantic prayer and apologies and complete and utter lethargy, lying in fetal position on the ground with an energy so low that she couldn't even think, let alone move or try to get up. She would just lie there, miserable, broken, alone, afraid, and hoping against hope that she wouldn't wake up in the morning. She hoped that she would die in her sleep tonight, just so everything would end sooner…

Then suddenly, she was shaking and crying again, praying for forgiveness for having such dark and self-loathing thoughts. It was sin to hate one's self and it was a sin to commit suicide. Praying for death surely counted, and Cora was suddenly afraid of being cast out again. But still, no answer. Two months of hardcore praying and evangelizing and all Cora had gained was severe anxiety and a general dislike from everyone else in town. They all thought she was a religious nut, and they were right. The girl Cora saw in the mirror was not the one she used to be and, to be honest, it wasn't the one she wanted to be either. She just wanted to feel ok and secure again, was that really so much to ask? Wasn't God supposed to be a comforter and not a sewer of the seeds of despair and chaos? Then why did she still feel so… wrong? And hurt and scared? And _unsaved_?

It was a deep fear of Cora's that maybe she had been wrong all along and maybe she was sacrificing all of her happiness and identity for no reason. It was a deep fear of Cora's that maybe God didn't exist and she was wasting away for nothing. It was a deep fear of Cora's that she didn't have to give up her place in the LGBT Community after all and that she was only wasting time by trying to burn that piece of her away. But it was an even deeper fear of hers that this was exactly the path she was expected to walk for the rest of her life. It was an even deeper fear others that she was exactly right about everything and that God really was going to cast everyone else into the fire for not taking his word more seriously. It was a deep fear of Cora's that homosexuality was a sin and if she were ever to try and embrace that integral part of her, God would never forgive her and she would end up burning in the flames of Hell with no way out and no one to save her. She was terrified of an afterlife wherein she would spend eternity in pain, suffering and screaming with no one to hear her.

But a sick, twisted part of her came to see that she was already feeling that way. Maybe she was already in Hell and God had long-since given up on her. But why? Why now after she'd tried so hard to follow his word? But Cora still received no answer and was left alone to suffer in the dark, being torn in half by these two powerful, irreconcilable parts of herself. It was a scary, confusing time for her and she had lost all sense of self, and of purpose. She tried to reach out for help, but there was no answer. There never was.

 **AN: Again, I'm sorry that was so dark and depressing and if anyone wants to talk, PM me. My inbox and I are always hope. I sincerely hope this didn't offend or upset anyone. It was only meant to be a recount of my own story, told through a character whom I identify with too well. (Though I am doing MUCH better now).**


	4. Day 4: Who Are You To Judge?

Gale and Tempest sat side by side at Denbar's most recent pride parade, just watching the rainbow-colored crowd go by.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Gale asked, cautiously pressing his body against his wife's.

"Yeah, it is," she replied, leaning against him to reassure him that she didn't mind this at all.

"Were you wanting to go watch the fireworks later, or would you rather head somewhere quieter?" Gale asked next.

"Wherever you go, I will be," she replied with a smile. Gale tried to swallow a nervous laugh. It didn't matter how long he'd been married to her, he was still unable to believe that someone as wonderful as her had chosen someone like him. The honeymoon phase never fully ended for him.

Gale even opened his mouth to say something equally charming back, but someone else interrupted.

"Hey now! This is a PRIDE parade! It's not for cis-hets like you!" the couple turned to see a young woman in a fancy-looking suit, scowling down at them as she and someone in a dress walked by. The person in a dress, unlike eir partner, wore a nervous expression.

"Hold on now, how do you know we're cis-hets?" Gale asked, his shy and awkward persona evaporating into someone far tougher and stronger.

"Because you two are dressed like a conventionally cis-het couple!" the woman scoffed. "Of course the woman would be in some long, flowy dress while her boyfriend would be in jeans and a tee shirt!"

"Enough!" now it was Tempest's turn to jump in. "Who are you to judge? Doesn't Denbar's Pride Pledge promise equality and acceptance for everyone? Not just people who fit some certain physical description?"

"You cis-hets don't need any more validation than you've already got!" the woman snapped back.

"Hey, would you stop using that term, please?" Gale finally snapped back impatiently. "I understand that you may have been hurt by someone cis and/or hetero, but that's no reason to start using derogatory terms! That makes you no better than them!"

"Fight fire with fire," the woman shrugged.

"How childish? Eye for an eye policy isn't very adult-like!" Gale accused. The woman opened her mouth to say more, but Gale cut her off. "Besides, not every cis-het person automatically homophobic or transphobic. We don't spend our lives calling you special snowflakes or trying to victimize you! I mean, I understand that they do exist and we are working on them, but you of all people shouldn't be so quick to judge!"

"Quick to judge? But you're a cis-het couple at a gay event!" the woman protested. "Who are _you_ to judge?"

"We could be allies for all you know," Tempest growled. "And before you try and tell me that you don't need allies, I argue that you do. If the only people who stood up for a cause were those who directly benefitted, nothing would ever get done. You DO need allies."

"Yeah, you don't have to be gay to support gay rights either," Gale remarked. "You don't have to be a woman to support feminism and you don't need to be a person of color to support civil rights! Who are you to judge who can stand up for what?"

"Perhaps not, but this is supposed to be a SAFE SPACE, away from your kind," the woman continued to argue.

"Away from 'our kind'?" Tempest demanded. "Are we suddenly different species now?"

"Besides, we do respect and understand the concept of safe spaces and how not every queer person is the same," Gale tried to assure the woman. "We understand that some people do need places where like-minded and like-bodied people can get together, but this pride event is for ALL. It's not just a safe space for any particular demographic. It's just an overall safe space for those who can't usually come out."

"Exactly!" the woman agreed. "And you cis-hets aren't part of that demographic! You don't need to come out!"

"You know, I really wish you weren't so quick to judge!" Tempest repeated.

"You're the only one in the wrong place," the woman rolled her eyes. Tempest only gave her the barest of smiles before turning around. There, pinned to the back of her dress, was a flag. From left to right, its stripes were black, gray, white and purple. The woman's eyes widened in horror and the shame on her face was something Tempest and Gale would never forget.

"Maybe you should've worn that on the front of your dress," she muttered defensively, but she was unable to meet their eyes any longer.

"Maybe you shouldn't act like you know everything or demand to know someone else's orientation," Tempest replied calmly, turning around again.

"Maybe you shouldn't act like sexuality is visible and learn to respect everyone equally," Gale agreed. "By the way, since I'm sure you're just _dying_ to know, I'm not straight either. I'm polysexual!" he added, raising his chin slightly. It was true, though, the only gender he'd never really felt attracted to were other men. It was nothing personal, he just had never felt any attraction to them. But to women and nonbinary people? Yes.

"Oh, and one more thing," Tempest said, then she raised up her middle finger. But she wasn't just flipping the woman off. She was also revealing a black ring. The woman grumbled under her breath before turning to go, dragging her apologetic-looking partner away.

"I hope whoever that was breaks up with her soon," Gale muttered as soon as he and Tempest were alone again.

"I hope she can start treating people more politely," Tempest agreed.

"I can't believe she was so rude! Since when did you have to look a certain way to fit in?" Gale asked. "What's wrong with conventional dress?"

"Nothing. She's just too close-minded," Tempest huffed.

"Yeah, I do think you look gorgeous," Gale agreed, inspecting Tempest's feminine dress.

"You do as well," Tempest replied with a giggle, kissing Gale's cheek.

"Awwww," Gale began to blush again.

For a moment, the two sat in silence, then a sly smile spread across Gale's face.

"But you know, we probably could look a bit gayer than we already do," he said. "I'll give her a point for that."

"What do you mean?" Tempest asked.

"We're at a pride parade," Gale said. "Let's go on and see how many rainbows we can buy and fit onto ourselves."

"Oh, you're on," Tempest grinned, already turning towards a nearby face-painting booth, then the two were off, running through the crowded city streets again like little kids, arm in arm.

 **AN:** **This was just plotless fluff between two of my Denbar characters. At most, it was a commentary against the radical feminists who think that acting feminine is weak, submissive, sexist or un-womanly. I've had people tell me I wasn't a real feminist because I actually did like dresses. I thought that was a really sexist thing to say in and of itself, so this fic just goes out to whoever thinks dressing a certain way defines identity. Dressing conservatively or liberally, feminine or masculine, modestly or immodestly, is how one expresses themself, but it doesn't define them.**


	5. Day 5: Stay

"I have been in love with no one, and never shall." Carmilla whispered, "Unless it should be with you." How beautiful she looked in the moonlight! Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in Laura's neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in Laura's, a hand that trembled. Her soft cheek was glowing against her companion's.

"Darling, darling," she murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."

"What can you mean by all of this?" Laura finally demanded, pulling out of Carmilla's embrace. Laura had come to care for Carmilla in the short few weeks they had been together, but every once in awhile, when Carmilla would go off on these strange reveries, Laura would grow afraid and uncertain of Carmilla again. She never understood what the reveries meant. They came to Carmilla like momentary bouts of insanity, but there was nothing in Carmilla's health to indicate madness.

"I mean, simply, that I care for you dearly and deeply," Carmilla replied calmly. "Surely you can see that?"

"Of course I can, but why do you talk so strangely about your affections for me?" Laura implored.

"Because they run deeper than someone like you can possibly understand," Carmilla rested her head on Laura's shoulder again.

"And I don't suppose you will ever tell me?" Laura asked, but she had already resigned herself to a negative answer. Carmilla was incredibly secretive and had yet to disclose one piece of history about her life to anyone, even Laura, though she claimed to love Laura dearly and deeply.

As perhaps inappropriate as it was, Laura did always hope that when Carmilla spoke of love to her, especially in this way, that she meant it in a way that would keep the two of them together forever. Laura understood already, inherently, that such a desire was both uncouth and unfair to Carmilla herself, but as child raised in loneliness and isolation, Laura craved for human contact, especially with someone just like her. Carmilla had filled a void inside of Laura that Laura was only dimly aware of until now.

If Carmilla would ever leave her, Laura was most certain that the loneliness would be unbearable to her now. Carmilla could not leave Laura after coming into her life so suddenly and filling it with such new and interesting experiences. To lose Carmilla and go back to the way things were was something Laura dreaded, although her subconscious already understood that Carmilla was never meant to be a permanent fixture in her life. But Laura could hope and dream. She could pretend that Carmilla's fancy words and speeches were true and that Carmilla would stay.

"You shall know all one day. In the meantime you are not to trouble your head about it," Carmilla answered Laura's question.

"I ought not to have asked you," Laura sighed. Although Carmilla had denied to satisfy Laura's curiosity many times before, each new refusal still stung Laura just as much as the last one had.

"Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours!" Carmilla promised again, taking Laura's hand in her own and squeezing it with a fond, possessive sort of pressure. It did nothing to placate Laura, serving only to increase her desire to know the truth of Carmilla's past.

The way Laura viewed it, if she was to be absent from Carmilla's future, then at least she should be allowed to have a part of Carmilla's past. Carmilla would not be with Laura forever, as Laura knew well, so she wished to take in as much of the odd but charming girl as she could while there was still time before Carmilla would leave. But Carmilla was stubborn in her refusal to confess even the smallest of facts about who she was or where she had come from and Laura feared that there would be nothing left of Carmilla for her to hold onto once Carmilla had gone.

"When shall that day come?" Laura finally dared to ask. "When will that day come that you will finally confide in me? Will it be the day you leave me?" the young girl's voice broke as she finally dared to confess what had truly been plaguing her conscience for so long.

"Sooner than that," Carmilla promised. "For the day shall come that you understand and that you and I become one, but never shall the day come that I leave you." Laura looked at the beautiful woman sadly.

"How can that be?" she asked. "You surely have a home to return to, a mother…" she thought back to the night Carmilla had come to her, carriage crash and all, fierce woman in black leaving the young lady in the care of Laura and her father.

"Perhaps so," Carmilla answered. "But perhaps not. And what if you were to come with me?"

"Would Papa allow it?" Laura asked with a sigh. She loved her father dearly, but she knew he would never allow her to leave the schloss.

"Perhaps so," Carmilla repeated. "One cannot truly know what the future will hold. It is as ever-changing and mysterious as the moon!" the pretty lady broke off to stare at the large round orb in the night sky.

"But one can predict the moon's path," Laura reminded her friend as she looked up at the white ball of light as well.

"To an extent," Carmilla argued. "One can predict the moon's path, but not the outcome of what that path will cause."

Laura nodded but said no more, unable to allow Carmilla to fill her head with more false hopes and dreams. Although she desired greatly for Carmilla to stay with her, she knew it was not to be. Even if Carmilla wished it as well and even if Laura were allowed to leave with Carmilla when the time came for Carmilla to go home, Laura could feel that she and Carmilla would not find the happiness that they both so desired. Laura feared that it was her fate to spend the rest of her life alone. She could already feel it within her very bones that their love would be like the moon, bright, only visible at night, and surrounded by stars, but ever-waning into nothingness. It was only a matter of time before Carmilla's moon waned away and Laura would be left alone in the dark of the night again with no light to guide her home.

 **AN: I never realized how sad and deep and awesome this fic was until I edited. I know that sounds egotistical, but I really freaking love this story. I feel like the dialogue was on point and the metaphors weren't too terrible or forced or over-the-top.**

 **Also, this is based off the 1872 novella. A webseries fic will come later.**


	6. Day 6: Old Married Couple

Maxim Roths exhaled slowly through his nose. He loved his husband more than anything else in all of Denbar, but sometimes that man just got on his last nerve. Everyone knew that Captain had an insane amount of hair. What was worse was that it was thick, shaggy, and wild. This meant, whenever the large man went to take a shower, whatever hair he shed ended up getting stuck in the drain and it was usually Maxim's unpleasant duty to fix it.

"This is disgusting!" he growled to himself, getting on his hands and knees and pulling up several feet of wet, matted, moldy brown hair that was rough and limp to the touch after spending several days in the drain. "If only that man would be more like me!" he lamented, thinking of his own hairless features. He was entirely bald and had neither beard nor mustache and he even took to shaving the rest of himself (neck, chest, back, limbs, etc). But Captain had more than enough hair for the both of them. Maxim was fairly sure the man had never even touched a razor in his life and the wild mass of brown hair that led down perfectly into his Santa-level beard was more than testament enough to that theory.

"Hey, Maxy!" a cheerful voice boomed out to the man still on his knees.

"Captain," Maxim grunted.

"Awww, come on now, what's the matter?" Captain asked with a grin, stepping into the bathroom with his husband.

"Just cleaning up your messes, like always!" Maxim grunted, gesturing to a nearby trashcan that had been empty about two minutes ago but was now literally overflowing with hair.

"Oooh, yeesh," Captain muttered.

"Yeah, yeesh," Maxim agreed angrily. "And who do you think is to blame for it?"

"Do tell?" Captain replied with mock interest.

"There's literally enough hair here to make a coat!" Maxim cried. Captain looked thoughtfully at the trashcan as Maxim said this.

"I have used my beard as a blanket before," he muttered. "I wonder if I _could_ ever make a coat out of it."

"Oh, sweet Denbar, please don't!" Maxim groaned. Captain only laughed in reply.

"It's not that bad, is it?" he asked. Maxim only gave him a look before gesturing to the shower drain. "Oh…"

"Yeah," Maxim crossed his arms.

"Should we call a plumber?" Captain asked.

"As if anyone would want to deal with that!" Maxim scoffed.

"Well, you're dealing with it, aren't you?" Captain pointed out.

"Yes, but that's because I was about to take a shower," Maxim said.

"Well, let me help you then! The faster we clean the drain, the faster you and all your hairlessness can shower!" Captain said, kneeling down beside his still-affronted husband. This remark only served to increase the smaller man's irritation.

"At least my hairlessness isn't a problem!" he cried.

"Oh, come on, you know you love my gorgeous, flowing locks!" Captain bragged, dramatically dragging his large fingers through his mane.

"Just help me clean the drain!" Maxim sighed in exasperation, but he was unable to entirely hide a smile at Captain's joke. They were just like an old married couple, constantly bickering, but never really fighting.

A few moments later, however, something else clogged the drain.

"Captain!" Maxim sighed in exasperation again, but this time, there was no humor in it.

"Ooops," the larger man grinned sheepishly. During their time cleaning the drain together, they had alternated who got to try and tear Captain's hair out of the shower and Captain had accidently gotten his finger stuck in one of the drain holes.

"Alright, hold on," Maxim sighed, then he stood up and grabbed some soap and hot water.

"You won't need a shower at this rate!" Captain laughed merrily.

"I can't believe you're taking this so lightly," Maxim replied as he proceeded to pour the soap and water over Captain's large hand. It didn't work.

"Wanna call a plumber now?" Captain joked.

"No!" Maxim replied stubbornly. It went against his nature to ask for help since he liked to consider himself a capable man. He'd battled hordes of aliens before! He'd sorted through thousands of soldiering files! He didn't need help getting a finger out of a drain!

"Stubborn," Captain chuckled under his breath, Maxim ignored the remark.

Several minutes later, though, with Captain still stuck in the drain, Maxim finally conceded to get help. The people who showed up at the door were not plumbers or firefighters, however. Instead, it was Iris, Clover, Storm and Peter.

"Why did you bring _them_ along?" Maxim demanded of Iris, her having been the only one he wanted.

"We were on a double date when you called and when you said Captain had gotten his hand stuck in a drain, they wanted to come too." Iris said.

"We had to see if it was true!" Peter was practically bouncing up and down with amusement and excitement.

"And we came to see if we could help!" Clover added, elbowing Peter somewhat.

"Nah, we just came to see if it was true," Storm shrugged. Clover shot her a despairing look but didn't dare to say anything to her. Maxim, however, was willing to glare at her, but when Captain's voice rang out from the bathroom, asking if the help had arrived yet, Maxim grudgingly allowed Storm into his home and he led the quartet back upstairs.

"Oh, wow," Iris failed to suppress a laugh. Behind her, she could hear Peter and Storm laughing and even Clover looked like she was about to chuckle. It was just so funny to see such a giant man stuck on his knees, hand stuck in a tub. It was made even funnier by the fact that this man was renowned for his strength and skill in combat. Now at last, he'd been bested by a simple piece of pipe.

"Oh, hello Iris, Clover, Storm, Peter! Are you with the plumbers now?" Captain asked with a pleasant grin as they laughed at his predicament.

"No, they were the ones I called," Maxim answered for them. "We didn't need the plumbers."

"Stubborn," Captain repeated warmly. "But was there any reason for bringing all four of them? Except to post on DenbarDownloaded, I mean?" he asked, gesturing to Peter and Storm who had both whipped out their phones and were taking pictures and videos. Iris and Clover rolled their eyes.

"No. I only meant to call Iris, but the other three decided to join!" Maxim growled at Clover, Peter and Storm, but the three of them ignored him.

He turned to Iris next. "Do you think you can help him?" he asked, tone becoming more gentle and concerned.

"Of course," Iris smiled back, then she walked over to Captain. He smiled up at her and nodded his consent as to whatever it was she needed to do. He trusted her with his life, so whatever she needed to do, he wouldn't fight.

"Alright, sir, whenever you're ready," Iris murmured. Captain nodded again. "Just tell me if I accidently hurt you," she added.

"Don't worry," Captain waved Iris off with his free hand. Iris smiled down at him and then began to concentrate. She was using her Gift of decay, causing the metal of the drain to erode away into rust and metal particles. It was her intent to destroy the drain without harming Captain's hand. She had excellent control over her Gift, so this was hardly a struggle. Instead, it was like the part of her brain that controlled her Gift knew exactly where metal ended and met flesh.

As she continued to drag her Gift around the metal circle of the drain, never once did Captain's hand start to age or decay. Instead, only the metal rotted away. Iris was very good at what she did with her Gift, no one could deny it. Her purple eyes glowed brightly all the while, casting two purple dots of light onto Captain's hand as she worked. Everyone watched her in silent awe, even Storm and Peter had paused their ruthless game of posting about Captain's predicament long enough to watch. Iris' Gift never ceased to amaze any of them and even Maxim was looking impressed. Captain was beaming. Iris made him so proud!

"There we go!" Iris declared finally, sitting back. Right as she said this, the last bit of metal had eroded into dust and Captain was able to pull his finger free easily. He wiggled it triumphantly. There had been no permanent damage.

"Ah ha!" he cried happily. "Thank you, Iris, you were wonderful, as always!" he added, taking the tiny brunette into a bone-crushing hug.

"Thanks, sir!" Iris gasped. The others watched in amusement as the two got to their feet.

"Well, that was fun!" Captain said, brushing his hands together in satisfaction.

"If you call being stuck in a drain for 30 minutes fun," Maxim deadpanned, reverting to his usual surly self now that the danger and fun was over.

"Nonsense!" Captain waved his husband off. "It wasn't too terrible and besides, Iris helped me out of it!" he clapped her on the back again and she stumbled from the blow. "Ooops," the large man grinned sheepishly, but Iris only laughed.

"Look, let's just try not to ever have a repeat of this day, ok?" Maxim rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Aye, aye, captain!" Captain joked, saluting Maxim.

"Sweet Denbar, you guys act like an old married couple!" Peter joked. Clover elbowed him again.

"But we are!" Captain reminded Peter. "Maxim and I are in our mid-sixties and we've been married since our mid-forties!"

"Oh, wow. Nice!" Peter muttered. Captain smiled his thanks.

"Ok, yes, it's all very well and good, but can you get out of our bathroom?" Maxim pleaded, and the others acquiesced, laughing as they did so.

A few more minutes later, Maxim and Captain were alone again.

"So, how about that shower?" Captain asked.

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You were not invited!" Maxim grunted, pushing the man towards the bathroom door.

"Oh, what? Come on! Pretty please?" although Captain looked more like a bear than anything, he still knew how to put on an adorable and amazing puppy face. Perhaps it came from all the facial hair or maybe it was from his bright brown eyes that were always glittering with mirth and laughter. Who knew? But one thing was for sure, not even stoic Maxim could deny that face.

"Oh, fine! But if you get anything stuck in the drain again, I'm never showering with you again!" Maxim grunted as he started to strip. Captain admired Maxim's insanely toned body, privately wishing Maxim didn't dress so modestly all the time, before replying.

"I find that hard to believe," he said. Then he stripped down as well. Although he was strong and muscular too, he wasn't as toned as Maxim. His muscles were still, as always, hidden more under a layer of fat, but that was just the kind of body he had. Some people were naturally round or heavy-set. It wasn't anything related to how they lived their lives. After all, Captain was a soldier! If anyone was fit, it would be him, but no, he still had his trademark potbelly, but it never mattered much to him.

"Besides, since Iris decayed most of it away, it's just a large hole right now. I don't think anything would get stuck in there."

"Please don't try," Maxim deadpanned.

"I won't, but I make no promises!" Captain laughed, then he opened the shower curtain and bowed. Maxim rolled his eyes but was smiling a little as he hopped into the shower. Captain followed him inside with a grin 10 times as large and turned on the water.

 **AN: Here's Day 6, just another short fluff-fic of one of the couples in my original story. Hope you liked it! I just wanted something domestic between these two guys and "hair in the shower drain" seems to be one of the favorites in terms of "OTP bickering about domestic life" prompts. It seemed the most typical to me, at least.**


	7. Day 7: Cowardice

Elle, having been a simple girl raised in a simple home under simple people with simple rules all leading simple lives, was relatively boring and plain. There was not much to talk about her. The only trait she really displayed was cowardice. But that was only because of how sheltered she was. With a father and two nursemaids who gave her anything she wanted, she never had to exert much effort into anything. This meant she did very poorly at being brave. Any trouble she crossed was something worth calling out for help for. She even earned a reputation amongst her father's servants as a coward, but the word never bothered her much because she knew it was true. Even as the years passed and she tried to grow a bit braver, she still acknowledged her cowardice and the fact that there was an unusually high amount of it.

One of the only times Elle was ever brave came when she was 19 years old and a new visitor arrived at her schloss. The visitor was a mysterious and beautiful girl named Carmilla. She had come after suffering a carriage crash from which her mother could not take time to recover. Instead, she had left Carmilla at Elle's schloss before speeding off, despite the poor condition of the carriage. But Elle did not mind, really, having gained a new friend out of the bargain. In time, Elle would even consider the night of the carriage crash to be the best one of her life because of what it brought to her simple, little world.

Carmilla was anything but simple or plain. As mysterious and secretive as she was, Elle could already tell that the girl had explored the world and Elle craved those experiences as well.

"I promise I'll take you eventually," Carmilla told her one day. "I'll take you traveling and we'll see all the wonders of the world together!"

"Oh, wouldn't that be marvelous?!" Elle agreed with a dreamy sigh as she leaned against Carmilla's side, eyes wide and full of adoration. Carmilla nodded, smiling down at her before pressing a gentle but passionate kiss to her cheek. It surprised Elle and she even pulled away.

"What was that for?" she asked, touching the place where Carmilla had kissed her.

"Kisses are how friends display affection, are they not?" Carmilla replied serenely, and that had been the moment Elle knew she was in love.

At first, the thought gave her much grief.

"She couldn't really have meant it in that way, could she?" the girl asked herself later that night when Carmilla had gone to bed. "Surely not! Surely it was only a platonic kiss. I am a fool for thinking otherwise!" Elle continued to chastise herself and the foolish, impure thoughts the idea of kissing Carmilla gave her. She tried to tell herself it was just her imagination acting up and that the kiss had been nothing more than innocent friendship, like Carmilla had said. But following a dream that very night, wherein Carmilla had slithered into her bed with kisses and caresses, gentle and loving, Elle wasn't so sure…

As the days passed, Carmilla's displays of affection increased in number and openness and it made Elle uncomfortable. She never said a word against any of it, but it made her blush whenever Carmilla kissed her or left a hand on her leg for just too long. Elle was no longer able to meet the eyes of some of her keener servants. She knew what was doing was wrong, shameful, even wicked, but she couldn't help it. Carmilla just felt so right. In both word and deed, Elle loved everything Carmilla did and could not find it within herself to ever tell Carmilla to stop.

"I am such a coward," Elle sighed one day as she and Carmilla rested in the schloss' large and magnificent garden.

"How do you mean?" Carmilla replied, sounding hurt that Elle would every say anything against herself.

"You shower me with kisses and affection. You have feelings for me, don't you?" Elle replied. For a moment, Carmilla said nothing, but then she began to nod, and with that all-too-familiar voice, husky and fervent, she agreed.

"I do, Elle, I do. I love you more than anything in the world and it would do me great pleasure if you were to say you feel the same!" she said.

"But that's just it, Carmilla!" Elle exclaimed. "I don't know if I do."

"You don't know if you love me?" Carmilla sounded hurt and Elle instantly felt bad.

"I mean, I do," she amended. "But I am afraid."

"Of what? You know I'd never hurt you," Carmilla promised, taking Elle's hand into her own.

"I know _you_ wouldn't, but what of the rest of the world?" Elle asked, and then she confessed. In truth, she did love Carmilla, deeply, but it still felt so wrong to her and she lived in fear of the day someone would find out. After she confessed, however, she began to feel better. The simple act of talking had relieved her of an immense burden and the promises Carmilla made to protect her soothed her even further.

"I won't let anybody hurt you," Carmilla promised softly, kissing Elle's cheek and dragging her lips across her friend's skin.

"Mmmm, I know," Elle hummed in pleasure. She was still a little afraid, but when Carmilla was near, nothing in the world could bother her.

After that day in the garden, following Carmilla's promise, Elle felt braver and braver every day. There were still times when she worried that the servants were beginning to suspect and there were still times when she would curse herself for being the way she was, but with Carmilla at her side, she was getting better.

"Be brave," Carmilla advised when Elle admitted to worrying that the cook might have known about them and would tell her father.

"But how?" Elle pleaded sadly. She still had yet to tell Carmilla that there were nights when she would hide her Bible outside of her room just because she feared that God himself would be judging her for the way she loved Carmilla.

"Tell yourself you don't care what they think because they are beneath you and remember that you and I are one, forever," Carmilla replied. "You may be afraid, but there are none on, above or below this earth that can stop us."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Elle continued to frown. There was still a small part of her that wished she didn't feel this way for Carmilla. There was still a part of her that wondered if this wasn't wrong after all. There was still a part of her that feared what her family and her God might think if she didn't try to fix herself.

"I just am," Carmilla replied, then she kissed Elle again and all of Elle's fears vanished like the morning dew.

A couple months later, however, those fears had returned and were becoming realities.

"You're a monster," Elle breathed in horror as she finally realized what Carmilla was. Some stranger in the village had pulled her aside and whispered to her, right then and there, that Carmilla wasn't all that she seemed. As much as Elle had tried to ignore it, that woman's words struck a chord with Elle and all she could do was continue to listen to the woman speak.

"Your guest, Carmilla, is not what you think! She is a liar and a monster and she does not love you or anybody else!" the woman declared.

"What do you mean?" Elle demanded, suddenly feeling very much afraid and wishing that Carmilla, herself, would come and help.

"She is a monster, a vampire!" the woman cried. At first, Elle had only laughed, but when the woman began to explain, it all made an eerie amount of sense. Everything added up. What frightened Elle most of all, however, was not the realization that Carmilla was a vampire, but the realization that Carmilla might not have loved her at all…

One of the things the woman said was that vampires had no ability to love, and what little they did feel was usually only for themselves or for blood. It was never another human being. So this meant that all of Carmilla's words and promises, kisses and caresses, had all been false. From the start, it had only been an act. It was a hard thing for Elle to hear, but what the woman said made so much sense that Elle began to see the truth. Carmilla was a vampire and Carmilla didn't love her at all. That was when the self-doubt crept in.

"I should've known!" Elle cursed herself as the woman drove her back to the schloss where she was to confront Carmilla at once. "I should've known someone like her could never really love someone like me! It was always too good to be true!" she began to weep softly at the horrific and depressing thought. "All along, I was only ever entertainment to her. She never really loved me and she was never going to take me traveling at all!" Elle continued to lament as the carriage sped on. How could she have been so foolish as to think that Carmilla loved her? The clues were all there in plain sight. She had just been too blind to see them. Now, it was impossible to ignore them.

After arriving back home, Elle had all but sprinted from the carriage and to the library where Carmilla waited for her. It was there that Elle confronted the girl, the _vampire_ , on the truth. Elle had hoped that this would all turn out to be some joke or mistake, but when Carmilla did expose her fangs to Elle after Elle intentionally caused herself to bleed, Elle knew that it was over. So, the woman had been right.

"You're a monster…" Carmilla had never loved her at all. All of those conversations about courage and learning self-acceptance were nothing more than lies. All that talk of freedom, escape and new life together. It was nothing more than Carmilla trying to tell Elle what she wanted to hear. Carmilla told honeyed lies to keep Elle engaged and it worked like a charm.

But what hurt Elle most of all was the fact that there was one small shred of truth in all of the lies. This truth was the fact that Elle really had loved Carmilla, truly and genuinely. That much had not been false. So to learn that Carmilla's love was all only skin-deep made everything so much more hollow. None of it had been real. It had only been Carmilla's way of getting a free meal. Elle didn't really matter at all in the vampire's cruel and hungry eyes. All that mattered was what lay under her pretty face. But Elle had truly loved Carmilla, and that was what hurt the most.

Elle cursed herself again. She should've known. She should've known that someone like Carmilla was just too perfect. She should've known that if someone came to her with sinful desires, they would end up being bad news for her even if she thought they were different. Elle began to curse who she was again, ashamed and afraid that society had been right all along about people like her. And she had just come to terms with the fact that she was… a…well… a lesbian. Now here she was, finding out that the very girl she'd fallen for was a literal demon. Figures. What holy and pure person fell in love with someone of the same sex? Elle shivered, both in disgust with herself and Carmilla.

After that, Elle surrendered Carmilla to the mysterious woman from the village and it was the last time either of them saw each other for about 150 years more. Elle's own life did not go much better than Carmilla's, however. At first, it seemed like the village woman was going to become Elle's new friend. She'd promised to take Elle traveling just like Carmilla had but, unlike Carmilla, there would be no lies between them. Elle hadn't trusted the woman at all, but the pain of Carmilla's betrayal blinded her, and Elle followed the woman like a sheep after a shepherd. It had been Elle's intention just to get away. From all of it! She wanted to burn every memory of Carmilla that she ever had to the ground and forget.

Elle wanted to forget all of the kisses and promises. She wanted to remember how loved and special Carmilla had made her feel. She wanted to forget how much time and effort it had taken her to get over the fact she was gay. She had fought so hard to love herself for herself so that she could be open with Carmilla and now she'd come to learn that Carmilla didn't actually love her at all. It undid all of her work, negated all of her sacrifice. Elle had never felt more used in her life than when it occurred to her that every act of courage she'd made on Carmilla's behalf had all been fake. And it never left her mind that Carmilla's vampirism meant the only other lesbian Elle knew was a literal monster. It was not a very comforting thought, but just like everything else, it refused to let her go.

"Where do you want to go first?" the village woman asked as she and Elle boarded the carriage waiting outside the schloss.

"Away from here," Elle replied hollowly. "I don't care at all. Just as long as it gets me anywhere else but here!"

"Done," the woman replied, then off they went.

At first, things were ok, but then, Elle's grief cleared just long enough for her to realize what she had done.

"Oh, God!" she gasped. Had she really just surrendered the girl she… loved… in a fit of anger? She had! And who knew where Carmilla was now? What if she wasn't even alive anymore? Well, technically, she hadn't been to begin with… but you know! Elle just couldn't help but worry. As mad and hurt as she was because of Carmilla, she began to regret her decision of just handing her over to the first suspicious crone that asked. It dawned on Elle that she might've just handed Carmilla a death sentence and even if Carmilla deserved it, Elle had to admit that she still didn't want the vampire dead. As sickening as it was to think that she had been kissing a vampire, Elle stilled care for Carmilla a little. Finally, the girl came up with a plan to return to her schloss and see if she could find out what had become of Carmilla…

"Where are you going?!" the village woman demanded when she saw Elle trying to leave their hotel.

"I just want to know what you've done with Carmilla," Elle replied, fighting to stay calm.

"Oh, her," the woman waved a dismissive hand. "You need not worry about that. She won't bother us, or anyone else, again."

"And what does that mean? You didn't kill her, did you?" Elle asked warily.

"Why would you care?" the woman replied. It was in that moment that Elle realized what trouble she was in. She knew she would need an insane amount of courage to do what she was going to do next, but she figured that it was worth it…

"Cowardly as I am and unloving as you are, I must know what happened!" Elle muttered, speaking to herself and Carmilla both. Then, as soon as night fell, she stole the woman's carriage and rode it back to her schloss. She had to know the truth, and see if it wasn't too late to save Carmilla. Even Elle, mad as she was, was not cruel enough to wish a death upon anyone… even Carmilla.

Elle had just reached the doors of her schloss, her father running at her and demanding where she and Carmilla had been, when a horrific scream rose up from the ground beneath them both. Elle was thrown back towards the carriage and her father back towards the schloss. Suddenly, the village woman was there. She towered over Elle, unmatched rage and hatred burning in her coal-black eyes.

"And just what do you think you're doing?!" she hissed. Elle opened her mouth to speak, but her courage had gone again and only cowardice remained, like always. She could only stare up in wide-mouthed horror and terror, frozen in fear.

"Thought so," the woman grunted, then she picked Elle up by the scruff of the neck and began to carry her away. Elle screamed and cried, thrashing like the devil to escape, but it was useless. The woman was far too strong, and Elle's father had since been knocked out due to his impact with the schloss wall. She would never see his eyes again, though they would open the next morning to find his daughter and her friend gone for good.

Elle's final destination was a strange underground chamber and she had no recollection of anything other than the faint scream of Carmilla, coming from somewhere far away. Once again, Elle felt a strange mix of justice and terror at the sound, wanting to free Carmilla and remind her that she deserved whatever had happened to her at the same time. She had no time to dwell on these thoughts, however, because suddenly, the village woman was back. A few other figures stood with her, but they made no sound.

"Ah, Elle, so glad you could join us! You gave us quite the scare, there! You almost missed the party!" she crooned.

"Party?" Elle echoed, tongue heavy and voice not quite her own.

"Yes, party," the woman replied, then she gestured to the center of the large chamber. There, in front of them, was a giant pit of pure light. Elle suddenly felt compelled to go towards it, despite her rationale telling her to run in the opposite direction.

"Yes dear, a party. And it is almost time for the main event, but don't be afraid! It won't hurt one bit and it will all be over before you even know it…" the village woman repeated as Elle drew closer to the edge of the giant pit.

"Party. I want to go to the party," Elle droned softly, unseeing and unthinking. "Party… Light… So beautiful…"

"That's it, there you go," the woman continued to encourage, voice far softer than when Elle had last heard it. It was soft and gentle again now. Elle finally reached the Pit's edge. She leaned down and recoiled at once as she saw Carmilla's face, looking up at her, frozen in a silent scream. She heard her name shouted at once before the vision vanished, but it was enough. Elle woke up. Suddenly, she was in full control of her entire being again and she knew that, somehow, she had just been given the chance to escape…To run and be free… To live again…

But she didn't. She was too scared. All of the fight had gone out of her and all that remained was cowardice, pure, plain and simple. So when the time came for Elle to go, although she was terrified of the Pit, she was even more terrified of the woman who had brought her here. Her cowardice pushed her onward and when the time came, she jumped willingly into the blinding white light. She had nothing else to live for. Carmilla was gone. Her father would figure out the truth. The village woman would hunt her down for the rest of her life. There would be no true escape. So Elle jumped in. Though the world would say that she was forced in, mind-controlled to jump, she knew the truth. She had been in complete control when her feet left the edge of the Pit. She had jumped in of her own free will.

Besides, the grief Carmilla had caused her was still so strong that Elle couldn't see any reason why she ought to live even if she had a way out. She took no pleasure in life anymore. It still stung her to think, after spending so much time trying to accept her homosexuality, she had come to see that the one other gay person she knew was quite literally a demon. Not exactly the most comforting of realizations.

Maybe they were right all along. Maybe it was better this way if Elle just jumped. It would be easier and, as the woman said, painless. What could go wrong? Besides, according to society and God, she had no place amongst them. Not after what she had done with Carmilla… She heard Carmilla scream her name one last time and had the chance to wonder if Carmilla would be waiting for her on the other side when her entire world went silent. It did not go dark, however. If anything, the light became even brighter and, somehow, Elle knew it would never go out.

Elle would come to regret her decision to just jump in without putting up one last fight, but she had just been so scared and tired at the time that she didn't really see any other option than the Pit. But that was what cowardice did to a person. It trapped them in place and then shined in their eyes as a blinding reminder of every "what if" and "if only". Elle, having been a simple girl raised in a simple home under simple people with simple rules all leading simple lives, was relatively boring and plain. There was not much to talk about her. The only trait she really displayed was cowardice and now, she was forced to relive that fact over and over and over again, forever.

 **AN: Day 7 is another bit of a downer. As you can see, it's based off the Carmilla webseries and just tells Elle's story because, as I've stated many times before, I feel that she is very underrated. This was just to paint her in a slightly better light because I feel that the creators went just a bit too far in making her an unsympathetic monster. In this version, Elle is just a girl who struggles with fear and, like so many of us, always lets it get the best of her.**

 **The one thing in particular that I wanted this story to show was the idea that she wasn't just afraid of Carmilla being a vampire, but afraid of Carmilla being lesbian. Imagine knowing that you, yourself, are gay and thinking that it's a sin and you're going to burn for it. Then imagine meeting another gay person and falling in love with them. Imagine that, for the very first time, you feel that it is possible for someone like you to love and be loved. Then imagine finding out that it was all a sick joke. It's especially painful for Elle because, after finally accepting her homosexuality, she comes to realize that the only other gay person she knows is a person that Christian canon considers demonic. Way to tell someone that it's ok to be gay, am I right? IDK, this fic was just supposed to be about fear, especially fear about being gay and how disheartening it can be to 'realize' that you're broken after all, as Elle does.**


	8. Day 8: Archer

Princeton watched as Quincy fired several arrows into the targets hanging on the back wall of the training area. His shots weren't perfect, but they were still pretty impressive.

"So, how come you've taken to archery?" the boy asked, knowing that Quincy usually preferred to fight with blunt or melee weapons.

"Ah, just a hobby," Quincy replied as he shot another target.

"But why?" Princeton insisted. "Don't tell me it's some competition you have with Emma?"

Emma Embry, one of their best friends, was an _amazing_ archer. And Quincy had always been a rather competitive dude so it didn't surprise Princeton in the slightest to think that Quincy would've taken up archery just to mess with her.

"Not exactly," Quincy replied, but right at that moment, his phone buzzed. Before Quincy could stop him, Princeton had stooped over and picked it up off the ground. Quincy had left his phone a few feet away against the wall with the rest of his things while he started shooting arrows. With the phone in his possession, Princeton wasted no time in reading what was said. It was a message from Emma. Or rather, it was a video. It was of her expertly shooting several arrows into a wall until the word "GAY" was spelled out on fletching on the wall. Then, following the video, was a simple text message: _Happy Pride Month, now beat that!_

"Not a competition, eh?" Princeton chuckled before handing the phone to its owner.

"Shut up," Quincy grunted embarrassedly, but he put the bow down long enough to watch the short video. He could hear another girl snickering in the background. It must've been the one filming the video. The phone buzzed again just a few minutes later.

" _Hey, loser, watch this_!" the message said. Then another video sent, this time it was of a girl named Maggie Mariner. She was another friend in their little quartet and she, doubtless, had been Emma's camera girl earlier. Now Maggie was in front of the phone and Emma behind. Maggie gave a bow before shooting 10 arrows off all one right after the other.

What made the video impressive was not necessarily the speed or marksmanship, but rather, it was what Maggie had done to her arrows. At the end of the video, Emma walked over to the 10 arrows, all in a perfect descending line, and Quincy and Princeton were able to see that there were little flags on the end of each arrow. When lined up the way they were, they spelled out "PRIDE MONTH" Then, right before the video ended, Emma turned the phone around so that both she and Maggie were in frame.

"HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!" they bellowed in unison. "Now BEAT THAT!"

"Oh my Denbar," Princeton repeated, still laughing as the video cut out. "Don't tell me that's what the archer thing is about?"

"Maybe it is," Quincy muttered embarrassedly, setting the phone back down on the ground.

"What were you planning on doing?" Princeton asked, amused. "How are you going to top that?"

"Like this," Quincy muttered again, then he shyly removed his shirt. There, painted in gold across his dark chest, were the words, "ARO-ACE" and, under those words, there was a golden outline of someone aiming a bow at an unseen target.

"Nice!" Princeton laughed as he looked at Quincy's torso.

"I was hoping to get a video of me shooting some arrows before the camera would zoom in to my chest," he said. "And then I would be in the same stance as the painted archer as it zoomed back out."

"That's brilliant!" Princeton applauded his friend.

"You think?" Quincy asked.

"Let's do it now!" Princeton agreed, so Quincy did.

He put his shirt back on and picked up the bow confidently and, with Princeton filming, he shot several targets. At the end of the little montage, he whipped around to face the camera and removed his shirt dramatically. Stifling giggles, Princeton zoomed in on Quincy's painted torso and then zoomed back out as Quincy took the same position the archer on his chest was in. Then, in a comically deep voice, Quincy said this:

"This is just your awesome Arrow Ace wishing you a Happy Pride Month and hoping that you know that you are valid and loved and that you matter, no matter your gender or orientation… But you should know that you still won't ever be as cool as the Arrow Ace!" then Quincy gave a dramatic flourish of the bow before bowing deeply.

Princeton ended the video there, laughing.

"Are you going to send it now?" he asked as he pushed the pause button.

"Yeah, do it!" Quincy urged, so Princeton did, still giggling like an idiot. But right after he sent it, Quincy remembered something. "Wait a sec! Give me the phone!" he demanded. Princeton tossed it back to him. For a moment, all Princeton could see was a still-shirtless Quincy cackling as he typed frantically on the tiny screen.

"What are you doing?" Princeton asked in amusement.

"Just come over here and take a selfie with me," Quincy replied. Deciding to humor his friend, Princeton not only complied with the demand, but right before Quincy took the picture, Princeton pretended to kiss his cheek. It was brilliant!

Quincy was in a fresh bout of laughter after the photo was taken, then he returned to his frantic keyboard.

"What even are you doing?" Princeton asked again, still smirking.

"Look," Quincy replied, hitting the send button and then practically shoving the phone into Princeton's face. Once he was able to see it clearly, Princeton could see that Quincy just sent their kissing selfie. Under the selfie was a simple message that read, " _Camera work was done by the Pan-tastic Pan-ston Cross. You can tell it's him because no one pans(exual) a camera quite as well as he does_. _Happy Pride Month, my dudes!_ "

"Seriously, dude?" Princeton asked, but he was laughing at the text.

Several hundred miles away, on the Camp Reed mountain, two girls crowded over one phone, laughing at the video and the text, smiling at the last five words of the message. _Happy Pride Month, my dudes!_


	9. Day 9: Early Morning

"Alright, Maggie, now what color is this?" Marni asked with a mockingly sweet voice as she held up an apple from the fridge.

"Red, Marni, red," Mag replied with an affectionate roll of the eyes as she sat at the kitchen table, watching Marni. "But I think everyone would know _that_ because you told me you were going to get an apple, and that's everyone's default choice when asked to find something red."

"Oh, whatever," Marni pretended to pout before tossing the apple over to Mag. Mag caught it easily and took a bite.

"Yum," she murmured. It was early morning and she and Marni were making breakfast. Or rather, Marni was making it. Mag had made it yesterday, so it was Marni's turn today.

"How many seeds are there?" Marni asked next, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

"Marni, come on, you don't need eyes to count. If you can just feel the seeds, you can count them through touch, since counting is only labeling and grouping discrete units of matter," Mag replied with a playful smirk, knowing that she was getting under her wife's skin.

"Ok, you know what? When I have a kid, I'll play with _them_ instead of you, because Heaven knows they won't be as sassy!" Marni promised.

"As if you can keep your future children away from me," Mag laughed. "They'll love me far more than you!"

"Bet!" Marni challenged, playfully slamming her palm on the kitchen counter.

"Alright, go find Nathan," Mag accepted the challenge, pointing her thumb over her shoulder as she referred to their husband, who was still asleep because it was still so early in the morning. Mag and Marni had only gotten up just because they weren't tired, but Nathan was still out cold.

"What's up?" a new voice asked. Oh, so maybe not so asleep after all!

"Mag's trying to talk crap about your future children!" Marni accused at once, leaving the fridge to kiss the man as he entered the kitchen sleepily.

"That seems to happen a lot," Nathan replied, lips quirking as he kissed Marni, and then Mag. "What did she say this time?"

"She said that the kids would love her more than me!" Marni took on a dramatic expression.

"To be honest, she's probably right," Nathan replied. Marni's dramatic expression turned to one of outrage and Nathan laughed as he began backing up quickly, trying to evade the wrath of his feistier wife. It was early morning at the Wallace household and, already, their antics were starting up. Nathan's other wife, however, continued to sit at the kitchen table, laughing at the sight unfolding before her. Never in her wildest dreams had Mag ever imagined that such a wonderful life would have ever belonged to her.

Being born blind and raised in an orphanage meant that life was seldom kind to Mag, and what little physical contact she did receive from others usually wasn't very good or kind or gentle. That wasn't to say her orphanage was bad or abusive, but it was severely understaffed, and with children and adults both dying left and right because of the organ failure pandemic, there was never time to truly bond with someone. It was a loveless place, but not just because the foster care system was broken, but because the entire world was. People were dropping dead left and right, more and more filling up the mass graveyards every day. The turnover at the orphanage was quite fierce, but not at all in a good way.

Mag was honestly surprised she hadn't been one of the countless dead too, her lack of vision being such a huge detriment to her survival. But it seemed that even though life had taken her eyes, it had paid her back by making sure that everything else was relatively functional. Whereas some kids and adults would drop dead from heart, lung, liver or brain failure, Mag never even showed signs of succumbing to anything like that. Instead, it was only her eyes. That was still nothing trivial, but at least it wasn't fatal. It was perhaps this blessing of a relatively otherwise healthy immune system that allowed Mag to not only survive her youth, but to be able to make it somewhere in her later years.

She ended up meeting Marni in high school and Marni was one of the few people who didn't seem to mind having to look after a blind girl. On the contrary, it seemed that Marni was more interested in making another friend than anything else, even if that new friend was, well, blind. And Mag loved Marni for that. Nothing ever stood in Marni's way, and that included the organ failure. She had survived a near-fatal heart failure without the need for a GeneCo transplant, and she didn't mind Mag's blindness at all. In fact, all she ever said about it was that someday, she would get Mag some working eyes somehow, then she would teach the girl all about the wonders of the gift of sight. It had been a hefty promise, but Marni somehow managed to keep it. Now here Mag sat, several years later, and blessed with functioning eyes.

Along the way, Marni had actually taken up with the doctor who operated on Mag, and even though Mag had, initially, been jealous, when Mag got to meet the man face to face, she could see the appeal at once. He was just so shy and awkward and adorable! He was polite, kind, gentle and handsome, in a cute and charming way. He was just so down-to-earth, not at all snide, snobby or showy.

In addition, Mag soon realized that she had actually met this man before. His name was Nathan Wallace, and he had been in one of her classes in high school, and she knew this because, whenever the teacher called for students to get into groups or pairs and Marni wasn't in that class, Mag always ended up with Nathan. This was partly out of his own generosity, but also because not many other kids would willingly work with the blind girl, unless it was to exploit her in some way. But Nathan had been different, and Mag had loved him for it. She found it funny, ironic, and cool to think that, after years of separation, the two were once again reunited in a science lab, once again coming to each other's rescue in times of awkwardness, only this time, Mag was the one on the lab table. Nathan had done a fine job with her new eyes, and she was forever grateful for that, her fondness of him only growing after the operation.

In fact, Mag had told Marni once that if she and Marni weren't dating and if she weren't a lesbian, she might've gone for Nathan. Back then, that had earned a few laughs from Marni, but now it seemed even funnier in hindsight just because Marni had actually never met Nathan in person until the operation. Now, the painful irony was that Marni was falling for Nathan in the same way Mag had described all those years ago.

But just because Marni was falling in love with Nathan did not mean that her love for Mag decreased in any way. In fact, about six months after Marni had met Nathan, she had come to Mag, asking if Mag would be open to the idea of a polyamorous relationship. Would Mag mind if Marni were to date Nathan as well as her?

At first, Mag had been a little stung by the question, believing it was Marni's way of saying she wanted a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend, but when Marni explained how exactly polyamory functioned, every party being fully consenting and in-the-know about other partners, Mag decided to give it a try. Besides, Mag really did like Nathan and she hadn't been exaggerating when she said she might've dated him, had she turned out a little different. So Mag agreed to Marni's request and, from then on, Mag, Marni and Nathan were one.

This did, of course, garner some jokes about threesomes and porn and whatnot, but the way Marni saw it, she had two hands, so why not fill them both with the hand of someone else that she loved? Besides, once again, this relationship was entirely consensual, and communication was excellent between the three and it only got stronger and stronger every day because of how much was needed to make sure all three were happy.

Besides, it had only ever been Mag's mistaken belief that all romance was inherently sexual. It wasn't until Marni explained things that the young woman was able to understand that one could be in a romantic, but nonsexual relationship. And that one could have multiple partners. Monogamy wasn't the only way to live and having multiple partners did not inherently mean that the people were promiscuous or disloyal. Mag just never had the chance to learn these kind of things, what with her less-than-stellar background, but when Marni explained, Mag realized that she could be happy in a relationship with a man despite being a lesbian. They would just keep things nonsexual. Mag knew her boundaries and besides, even if she didn't feel any romantic inclinations towards Nathan, she still liked him as a very close friend, so she decided that she could tolerate a relationship with him, regardless of how Marni viewed the situation. For Marni, though, it was romantic AND sexual on both sides, just never at the same time because it was Mag's wish that she didn't feel comfortable sleeping with Nathan. This was more than fine with Nathan. If Mag wasn't into it, she wasn't in to it. They would live as friends instead. Housemates didn't always need a romantic or sexual component to their relationship. Marni was able to fulfill that need for both of them.

So, the three had been in this happy and healthy relationship for a few years now, having gotten married not too long ago, and now the topic of parenting was being brought up. Marni knew for a fact that she wanted kids just because of how much fun it had been, teaching Mag how to read and write and identify things with her eyes after her surgical operation. Nathan, though a little more nervous, was no less excited about the prospect of children and Mag, herself, had always wanted children as well. So that meant all three of them knew for a fact that they wanted kids, it was just a question of when and how many. They were in the very early stages of planning.

"I mean, there are three of us, so we could have three of them," Marni suggested, still hugging Nathan as she and him stood over the kitchen table, speaking with Mag.

"Sounds good to me," Nathan shrugged. "The more, the merrier."

"You're just saying that because that means you get to spend longer with Marni in bed," Mag joked, quirking a delicate eyebrow as she took a sip of her early morning coffee. It wasn't decaf. Thank god!

"Am not!" Nathan protested, blushing at Mag's joke. Marni, meanwhile, laughed.

"Don't get jealous, Maggie. Every night I spend with him, I'll spend with you," she said, then she reached out and squeezed Mag's leg.

"Good," Mag pretended to look smug. "I met you first, so it's only fair I get you first."

"Oh my, God," Nathan hid his face in his hands shyly as he pulled away from Marni, but he was laughing too.

"So should we get started now, or…?" Marni asked teasingly, sidling back over to Nathan again.

"Oh, please don't!" Mag pretended to cover her eyes. "I wish I was still blind!"

"Oh, shut up," Marni stuck her tongue out Mag.

"Look, why don't we take it one step at a time and have breakfast?" Nathan suggested finally, interrupting his wives' flirting.

"Alright, honey," Marni murmured seductively. "What did you want to eat?"

"Bacon!" Nathan quickly brushed by Marni and Mag both to get to the stove. It wasn't his day to make breakfast, but if it got him away from these early morning advances, he would be fine. Seriously, it was way too soon to be talking about this stuff. It was barely even 7:00 am! Mag and Marni both began laughing while Nathan pretended to grumble to himself as he pulled out a pan and some bacon. Nathan had met Mag before Marni and Mag had always been so quiet and sweet like him. But after she took up with Marni, a lot of that gentleness died. Nathan pretended to curse Marni for being a bad influence. But then, as he listened to their conversation going on as he made breakfast, his heart melted a little.

"Oh! Was _that_ the dress you wore to the prom?" Mag murmured. Marni was showing her some old photos just to spoil her a little. Mag may have had her eyes for about three or four months by now, but there was still a lot left for the woman to learn and Marni liked to tease it all out little by little. It made everything more fun and gave Mag something new to look forward to every single day.

"It's so beautiful!" she continued to marvel.

"It was my mom's," Marni replied with a fond smile. Showing Mag these old photos wasn't just good for Mag, it was also good for Marni. It reminded her of all the good times she'd had in life and it made her understand just how lucky she'd been, and not even just when compared to Mag poor and lonely, unhappy upbringing.

In general, Marni's life had been better than most because, aside from that one heart-scare as a child, Marni was totally healthy and safe. She had two loving parents and a relatively good income. She was raised in moral and educated house and was taught to be kind to everyone, no matter what their situation was. It was how she'd befriended Mag in the first place, being one of the few students of the school to look upon the blind girl with anything other than pity or disgust or amusement. And meeting Mag had been one of the best things to ever happen to Marni, the next best being meeting Nathan. The proof was in the rings on her and their fingers.

Showing Mag these photos reminded her of all the good memories she had in a world that was so dark and depressing. In addition, by showing the photos to Mag, she was sharing more and more of herself with her best friend and beloved wife. She was sharing her history with her future. She was teaching Mag how to use her eyes and, in the same vein, practicing for when she would be teaching a child about herself. Oh yes, she could feel it in her bones that she would be a wonderful mother and all of this practice with Mag would pay off when she brought a new life into this world. It was a dark one, yes, but she would show that child the light in the same way Mag and Nathan had showed her the light.

"And there's that one of us in science class!" Marni pointed to another picture in the book.

"Oh! I remember that day! I couldn't see anything, but it sounded pretty bad!" Mag laughed, finally getting to see what had happened unfold. Apparently, someone ended up mixing the wrong chemical into their experiment and sent the whole thing skyward. Mag had heard the explosion, but to see it now, even though it had been captured on a phone and printed off on cheap paper, was still hilarious. Nathan, meanwhile, continued to listen to his wives talk and laugh and reminisce and he smiled. He loved whenever he had time to spend and easy, early morning just relaxing with the two people he loved most in the world and he was sure they felt the same.

 **AN: As you can see, this is just a Repo polyamory fic between Mag, Marni and Nathan because you can't tell me this wasn't at least a little canon. And the reference to Marni teaching Mag colors is a reference to another story I wrote entitled "Teacher" and filed under "Repo the Genetic Opera" fanfiction if you want to read that too (shameless plug, LOL).**


	10. Day 10: A New Man

Copper eyes opened slowly. Bright light met the dark pupils. Copper eyes narrowed to dull the pain. A cream-colored hand raised upward against the glaring light. A body in a white nightgown sat up slowly.

"Ah! You're up!" a cheerful voice echoed off to the side. The figure in the bed turned towards the voice.

"Who are you?" was the first question from the patient's mouth.

"Don't you recognize me?" the voice replied with a laugh. "It's me! Your doctor!"

Slowly, then, names and faces came back into mind. His name was Rexus Alreth, and he had just finished receiving bottom sex-reassignment surgery. Her name was Lisa Lockewood and, as she had said, she was one of the doctors who helped with the operation. She was viewed as Denbar's best doctor and surgeon, especially when it came to sex-reassignment surgery. In fact, her most iconic operation was her own. She, too, was transgender, and she had helped outline her own surgery, though of course, she had been unable to see it performed personally. But clearly, she had done a good job in writing it all out, because her sex-reassignment surgery had gone off without a hitch. There was a very good reason why Rexus had chosen to work with her when it came to his own sex-reassignment surgery.

"Yeah, I'm up, I'm up," Rexus growled, voice lower and raspy from being unconscious for so long.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Lockewood pressed.

"Different," Rexus replied. Dr. Lockewood laughed.

"That is to be expected, dear," she said. "But do you feel well? Is anything causing you any pain?"

"Not really," Rexus answered honestly. "Did everything go ok?"

"So far, yes," Dr. Lockewood nodded. "Everything has gone perfectly! Now, of course, there will be recovery pains, and you probably will need to keep from doing anything to stressful, physically or mentally, but that's all very standard stuff," she continued.

"But everything is ok?" Rexus asked again. As his consciousness returned to him, so did the urgency he felt about his operation. "Nothing went wrong and I'm a full-on guy now, right?"

"Yes, dear," Dr. Lockewood nodded again. "Of course you are. The surgery is over, the payments have been made, the paperwork is being drafted as we speak and you should be all set to go home real soon!"

"As a new man," Rexus nodded, exhaling softly in wonder at the thought.

"As a new man," Dr. Lockewood echoed gently, understanding exactly what the boy was thinking and feeling. She smiled at him gently and after making sure that he really was feeling as well as he claimed, she took leave of the operating room for a moment. This left Rexus alone with his thoughts. He reclined back and closed his copper eyes once more. _A new man_...

Rexus' life had been a relatively easy and simple one. It was just him, his younger sister, and his mothers and father. They all lived together in one of the western states of Denbar and, for the most part, were happy. Even Rexus himself never had much to complain about. Apart from one little thing. His gender. He had been born a beautiful and lively young female, but even from a younger age, something hadn't felt quite right. It started off as a nagging feeling at first, like trying to find the right color crayon only to be a few shades off. While the rest of the world insisted that his color was fine, he had always know, at least a little bit, that it was a shade or so off...

As the years passed, the feeling intensified, and there reached a point when it was no longer like being a few shades off, or merely using the wrong colored crayon. Then it felt like being entirely out of place, like he was living as someone else, like he had stolen someone else's body and identity. The person he was on the outside was not the person he was within, and every time he looked in a mirror, he felt as though he were looking at somebody else. Like it wasn't supposed to be him. Like he had gotten the wrong body and was just waiting to switch back with the body he was supposed to have been given.

"That can't be me!" he used to think, perplexed, as he studied his old female form. And then at last, once he found himself entering into the first stages into adulthood, he felt himself entering the first stages into transition as well. He had always sort of known and felt that a female life was not what he was supposed to have, a mixture of uncertainty, fear and internalized transphobia (he had plenty of trans friends himself, but for some reason, he seemed incapable of wrapping his mind around the idea that he might be one as well) kept him from ever being certain. He always second-guessed and tried to explain around it, or reason that maybe he would settle down into his female body eventually. That day never came. Instead, he finally began to take strides in the other direction, towards transition.

From that first day when he came out to himself, the rest was history. He was officially given a prescription to start hormones and, after long enough on them, he finally moved into surgery. Now here he was two-ish years later, in the body that he was always meant to have. It felt much more comfortable, and much better. Something about it felt more natural and familiar, even though it was new.

"Now this is how I'm supposed to feel!" he muttered to himself as he continued to inspect his new body. There really was something so natural and so right and so familiar about all of this.

In time, Rexus was finally released from the operating room. His father and little sister were waiting for him, his mother back home and prepping a little welcome-home post-op party for him.

"It'll be a big change," Dr. Lockewood warned Rexus as they left the hospital together.

"Don't I know it," Rexus grunted with a smirk, but he felt so much better now. Silly as it sounded, he felt proud of what was between his legs now (even if it would never grow very long or be 100% functional). It just felt so right and much better than anything he'd had before and now, with both surgeries complete, he really felt as though he had been reborn. Now he was finally whole, now he felt ready to start his new life.

"Ah! The man of the hour!" the first one to greet Rexus as he emerged was his younger sister, Oliver. She hopped up and ran over to him with wide and eager eyes, impressed as she studied him closely. Even though the aftermath of this surgery wasn't nearly as visible as the previous one, she still looked enchanted and interested.

"Ah! My son! Good to see you! All went well, I hope?" Rexus' father was the second to rise, looking back and forth between him and the doctor.

"As far as we know," Dr. Lockewood replied with a reassuring nod. She did warn him that future troubles may arise, but at the moment, everything was perfectly fine and healthy within Rexus' newly completed male form. Rexus, meanwhile, continued to show off to his little sister. Even though, once again, this change was less noticeable, he playfully flexed his arms for her.

"I'm a real man now!" he laughed.

"You always were," she replied, eyes sparkling. "You were always my big brother! But I'm so glad you finally get to feel that way too," she added and Rexus had to cough in order to mask the sob that had risen up in his throat after such a supportive and loving remark from Oliver.

Oliver had always been Rexus' number one supporter, advocate and ally. She was the first one he ever came out to, and just like now, she had promised that she would love him no matter what. Whether he was sister or brother did not matter to her. He was family either way. And her faith in such a remark had not wavered in the slightest in all the years that Rexus had been transitioning. He was eternally grateful for it. The two had always been very close and affectionate and that had only doubled during Rexus' transition period and Rexus was certain that he would never love anyone else as much as he loved her, his precious little sister. And she felt the same way about him.

Things only got better from there. He began to feel more confident, happy, relaxed and at peace again. He no longer suffered anxiety attacks just because something didn't look or feel right. He no longer felt ashamed when he laughed or moved because he no longer had to worry about whether or not he still looked or sounded too girly. He began to go shirtless. He walked with a taller, firmer stride. He smiled more. He finally felt like his body matched his clothing and hairstyle. He felt more comfortable and included and "in" when he hung out with other guys. His confidence was over the moon at this point, and so was he!

ooo

"Come on, big brother, quit staring off into space!" Oliver interrupted Rexus' happy recollections. "We're going out to celebrate your one year anniversary since you finished transitioning!"

"Are we really?" Rexus laughed. Many times before, Oliver had pleaded with Rexus to celebrate his transition day like a second birthday, but that was just because she wanted another excuse to eat out or celebrate.

"Yeah, Mama said we could go to the pizza parlor downtown and then go for ice cream after!" Oliver nodded, dragging Rexus towards the car.

"Wonderful," he grunted, allowing the younger girl to pull him along. She wasn't that much younger than he was and he was still a maturing adult, but she could act like a little kid every now and then, especially when it came to celebrations.

"Alright, now, don't kill him!" Rexus' father admonished as he watched his daughter drag his son towards the car.

"Don't worry, Dad, she'll need to try harder than that!" Rexus laughed.

"Be careful what you wish for!" Rexus' mother warned, but the words had barely left her mouth before Oliver simply picked Rexus right up off the ground and slung him over her shoulder.

"Oh! Sweet Denbar!" he cried as the ground was suddenly ripped out from underneath his feet. Although he was a heavy guy, having packed on the pounds in the past year, Oliver was surprisingly strong for someone of her body type and she was able to carry Rexus with ease, tossing him into the car as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

"We tried to warn you," Rexus' father chuckled as Oliver brushed her hands off with a satisfied little smirk.

"Whatever," Rexus grunted, pretending to glare at Oliver from his seat in the car.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Oliver pleaded. "I'm starving to death!" Then she vaulted into the car right after Rexus.

"Patience, child!" Rexus joked as she quickly buckled herself in.

"Shut up," Oliver replied, tongue out.

"No fighting," Rexus' mother warned as she and her husband trundled into the car after their impatient children. The two fell into an obedient and amicable silence after that, but they continued to make faces at one another as the car drove on down the road. Their father noticed it in the rearview mirror, but he said nothing, choosing instead to stifle laughter as he watched the two go at it. It didn't matter that they were both adults (or almost adult in Oliver's case), they were still very childish at heart, and it was endlessly entertaining to watch. Not for the first time did he and his wife thank Denbar for their luck to be blessed with such a wonderful daughter... and _son_.

 **AN: Here's another Denbar character, and shout-out to the friend who helped me write this fic! He knows who he is!**


	11. Day 11: Pride Fest

What if, two years after the old Barden Bellas performed at the USO, the new Barden Bellas decided to host a giant, weeklong, Barden-Wide, Musical Program-led Pride Fest? And what if, as a joke, some of those new Bellas asked all the old Bellas to return? And most importantly, what if the old Bellas all said yes? Well, it would be a very crowded and nostalgic campus where old friends and foes would meet and unite under a common flag to exchange memories, both good and bad. It would be strangely and suspiciously convenient that so many old people would be able to attend, despite the distance, but Barden and its Bellas were known for having almost god-like luck in certain situations.

"Seriously, though! Even those guys are still around?!" Beca exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief as the Tonehangers walked on by. Several of them tried to wink and make finger-guns at her, but being as aged and ridiculous as they were, the gestures came off more foolish than anything and Beca rolled her eyes before walking on by.

"Well, the new Bellas did state that it was for any alum of Barden and, since it's a Pride Fest, of course the doors are open to the public," Theo, Beca's employee and very close friend, reminded her as they walked along the crowded campus. It was the first day of the Barden Pride Fest and Beca and Theo had just arrived.

Their first stop coming here had just been to say hello to Beca's father, which went pretty well. It was clear he still wished Beca had chosen a more serious career, but she had graduated college and was working a good job now, so there wasn't much for him to complain about and he was willing to bend, just this once. He told Beca he was proud of her and refrained from talking about Beca's stepmother before handing the girl a rainbow bandana. It was a surprising and sweet gesture and Beca had the grace to take the bandana, though she gave it to Theo as soon as she was out of her father's office. She was glad that he was trying so hard to be better to her, but it still felt forced, and that was what got under her skin. But she was willing to let things be, at least for this one week...

"True, but I mean, come on! What are the odds of all of the Tonehangers still being together and deciding to come along here? They don't even look that different from five years ago when last we saw them!" Beca exclaimed, turning her head to watch them go. "I mean, yeah, they're all older and fatter and I'm pretty sure one of those guys now has a triple-chin, but you know what I mean."

"Yes, yes, I know what you mean," Theo laughed.

He and Beca continued to walk through the crowded and rainbow-ridden campus. The sun was high and warm and the sky was cloudless.

"So, when are your other Bellas going to arrive?" Theo asked after a few minutes of silence.

"It should be soon," Beca replied, checking her phone. "They're coming from all over, so it stands to reason that we probably won't all be in the same room together until tonight. Then the fun will really begin!" Beca laughed, but then realized how sexual her remark may have sounded. She quickly amended her statement after seeing the stunned and somewhat embarrassed look on Theo's face.

"And I meant that in a totally, nonsexual way, like, none of us are planning on, like, doing the do. You know?" she asked pathetically.

"Ah well, no judgment if you do do the do," Theo shrugged with a laugh, surprise already fading away. "Especially not here and especially not this month!" he added with a grin as someone threw a rainbow streamer overhead.

"Yeah, I'm sure Cynthia, Jessica and Ashley will be delighted," Beca snickered.

"You're darn right, we will!" two voices chorused. Beca and Theo turned with delight to see Jessica and Ashley (or was it Ashley and Jessica?) standing side by side, totally covered in rainbows.

"Hey!" Beca opened her arms at once. She may not have been the world's most cuddly person, but in a moment like this, a small hug was ok. The other two girls responded accordingly, returning Beca's hug with equal fondness. The three of them exchanged pleasantries and Beca was able to learn that the two girls had since gotten married and both had become teachers at some nice little elementary school the next state over. It was the first place they'd ever gone to that didn't ever mix them up since one of them taught math and the other taught English.

"That's great!" Beca cried, some of the rainbow paint on their bodies rubbing onto Beca's. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"I know Aubrey is here with Stacie," Jessica (or Ashley) said. "And I'm pretty sure Chloe and Chicago are coming too."

"Great! Any idea where?" Beca replied.

"Not at all," the Jessica and Ashley replied in unison, smiling helplessly as they gestured to the thousands of rainbow bodies around them.

"Yeah, well, we're still all meeting up later, right? The old Bella House?" Beca asked.

This was the more exclusive part of this Pride Fest. Although the entire Pride Fest was open to the public, only alumni were offered a chance to stay at the dorms or frat/sorority houses. This meant that while Beca would be able to stay on campus for the duration of the fest, Theo would have to stay back at the hotel he and Beca were sharing while traveling to Barden together.

"Of course!" Ashley (or Jessica) replied with a smile.

"I'll see you there, then," Beca promised and she exchanged farewells with the two old singers before they all parted ways.

"So remind me, which one was which?" Theo asked as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

"Beats me," Beca replied. Theo gave her another surprised look, but she dismissed it and he decided to let the issue drop.

The next Bellas Beca ended up meeting were Cynthia and Lilly/Esther. Cynthia had, just as promised, joined the military. Although she was still struggling with flight school, she was doing better than before and now had the average of losing 125 fake people instead of 350. With her was a woman Beca had only met a couple times before. Her name was Mary. She had met Cynthia during a boot camp session and was the woman Cynthia had gotten hitched to at the end of her senior year. Beca had only ever seen her at the wedding and maybe one or two times after, so this was a first time the two would be spending more than a few hours together. The couple seemed happy enough and Mary was actually quite friendly. It had only ever been her busy military schedule that ever kept her from meeting the other Bellas properly before.

"Pleased to make your proper acquaintance," Mary told Beca and Theo playfully, and they returned the greeting politely.

"I'm glad to know we'll get more than five minutes together," Beca told Cynthia's wife.

"Me too," Mary replied with a laugh, high-fiving Cynthia.

"So, y'all ready to go wild over these next few days?" Cynthia grinned wickedly. Her hair was dyed rainbow and Mary's looked the same.

"Heck yeah!" Mary grinned, kissing Cynthia's cheek and waving her pride flag. Some glitter fell from her spiky hair.

"I'm ready to get crunk," Esther agreed, grinning. With her was Donald, an old Treblemaker, and Young Sparrow. He had been DJ Dragon Nutz's partner during the USO tour and although DJ was here at the Pride Fest, he and Young Sparrow were no longer in the music industry together, both of them having gone their separate ways.

Esther had swooped in and started dating Young not long after the USO tour and, somewhere along the way, ended up reconnecting with Donald, who had been a small flame of Esther's back at Barden. Although he had been just as shocked as anyone else to hear that Lilly was only ever Satan in Esther's body, he was still perfectly willing to accept her as she was and he ended up joining in a polyamorous relationship with her and Y.S. and it had been this way ever since, a relationship of three.

"It's gonna be fresh and freaky!" Y.S. agreed softly with a small but feisty grin. He and Esther proceeded to trade pieces of gum that they were chewing, grossing out Beca and Theo. Donald didn't speak, but the content look on his face said it all. He loved Y.S. and Esther both and even though their habits were weird, and sometimes gross, he was incredibly happy with how life was going right now.

As the day continued, Beca ended up running into Fat Amy at Flo's Juice Cart which, as she had promised, had since become a full franchise. She sold an array of drinks, just like always, but today, everything was Pride related and she'd already promised to send 20% of proceeds to various LGBT organizations across America (and 5% as an emergency fund in case someone ever tried to hijack her truck and she would have to resort to living off the land until she could get a new one). At the moment, Amy was with Bumper, busily guzzling down a drink called "Pride Punch" through one of those stupid twirly straws that was bent in the shape of a heart. It was a sickeningly sweet display, but Beca had still joyfully called out to the Australian when they first saw each other. It had been so long, after all!

"Amy!" Beca called out as she and Theo came into view of Amy.

"Beca!" Amy had responded, but since her mouth was full of slushee, it sounded more like "Becchhha!" Amy then proceeded to reach out to Beca for a hug, despite the fact that her hands were still covered in something that Beca hoped was just icing from a cake or doughnut.

"Oh, wait a minute! Oh, no!" Beca tried to step away from Amy, trying to get her to understand that she didn't want the hug until Amy had washed her hands, but to no avail. Amy easily scooped Beca up into her arms and began to hug her with more strength than Jessica and Ashley combined. Theo and Bumper both watched the scene in amusement, though Bumper's expression was way more smug and way less concerned about Beca.

At last, however, Amy set Beca down and the two were able to talk face to face and even Flo took a moment to greet her old friend.

"How you been?!" Amy demanded excitedly.

"I've been wonderful!" Beca replied with a grin. "Things are really picking up for me with DJ Khaled."

"As if they hadn't been from the get-go," Theo reminded her with a smile. Beca grinned at him shyly.

"Awww yeah!" Amy fist-pumped the air and Flo whistled approvingly.

"How about you two?" Beca asked back.

"Well, as you can see, I have become a successful enterprise," Flo began, gesturing to her van. Beca nodded proudly. "It is my goal to continue to spread across America until Flo's Fresh Fix is a household name! I've already got plans for tee shirts and cups!" the girl added, pointing to a large stack of papers tucked into the corner of the van. They were sketches and budgets on how she would expand her little empire. "First, America. Then, the world!" she raised her fists in triumph, but before she could say more, someone on the other side of the van began banging on the door, asking for a drink, and Flo was forced to turn away so that she could give them what was called a 'Love is Love' lemonade.

"How about you, Amy?" Beca asked as Flo left the conversation. As Beca got to look at Amy, she couldn't help but laugh internally. Amy was even more decked out in Pride gear than Jessica, Ashley, Cynthia, Esther or Mary had been. Her hair was covered in dye, she was in full drag makeup and she wore a rainbow version of one of her Amy Winehouse show outfits.

Funnily enough, it had actually been at one of her shows where she and Bumper had first reunited. Bumper had been trying to spend a night out on the town and take his mind off of his life when he ended up seeing Amy, of all people. Old wounds reopened and he had felt his butt tingle. Or more specifically, it was that part of his butt where Amy's face was tattooed. From that moment on, Bumper had followed all of Amy's shows, looking for a chance to meet Amy face to face again. Finally, he did it by breaking onto the stage of one of Amy's shows, pretending to be Bumper Reg Traviss (not a very creative name). But Beca did have to give Bumper props for one thing though. Reg Traviss was actually a real person and had been Amy Winehouse's last great love before her death by alcohol poisoning, (ironic as that was for a lover of Amy WINEhouse).

After that little stunt, Bumper had managed to win back Amy's heart again and they'd been touring and traveling together ever since!

"So, what do you think of the shirt?" Amy asked with a sexual grin, gesturing to it. It was her face photoshopped onto Amy Winehouse's body and, underneath, it read "Gay-my Winehouse".

"Uhhh, it's wonderful," Beca gave Amy a forced grin as she took in that… amazing work of photoshop art.

"Yeah, and see, do you get it? Do you get my shirt? Because her name is Amy and my name is Amy and that sounds like Gay and it's a Gay Pride Parade so her name is Gay-my, like Gay-Amy? Get it?" Amy implored excitedly.

"Yes, Amy, we get it," Beca said, slowly raising her hands in order to get Amy to calm down and stop talking. "The joke just wasn't good."

"Ah well, some people just can't appreciate art, can they?" Amy shrugged in response to Beca's remark before throwing an arm around Bumper.

"Not everyone can be as fantastically and amazingly awesome as us!" he agreed with a smug smirk. Beca didn't even bother trying to smile at him.

"Speaking of which, how's that second butt tattoo?" Amy asked next.

"Second?!" Beca and Theo both exclaimed, but when Beca realized that Theo hadn't even heard the story behind the first one, she quickly changed topics and cut everyone off before Bumper could do something insane and disturbing, like take off his pants, which he was probably about to do.

"Actually, you know what, I thought I saw Stacie around here somewhere!" Beca gasped suddenly. "We should go see her now before I forget!" then before either Bumper or Amy could protest, Beca had taken Theo's hand and bolted.

"See you at the Parade, Shortie!" Amy bellowed as Beca took off. "I'll be one in rainbow fishnets and thigh-highs! Me and my man are gonna bring down the house! There will be pole-dancing! You'll see!"

"Sure we will," Beca muttered under her breath, then she picked up her speed, still dragging a confused and amused Theo with her. He really did want to know about Bumper's butt tattoo, but given Beca's response to it, it was something he probably shouldn't ask about.

"So where are we going?" Theo asked after awhile, once Beca finally slowed to a walk again.

"Away from Amy and Bumper," Beca replied with a heavy sigh of relief.

"Is Stacie actually here?" Theo asked next.

"I have no-" Beca began to answer, but who should appear other than Stacie herself?! With her was Aubrey and a two-year old girl. Bella.

The next reunion was far sweeter and gentler than the one with Amy and Bumper. Beca may have never been into kids or babies, but there was just something so beautiful, sweet, pure and innocent about Bella that made Beca almost cry. There was just something so precious and sacred in the way that Bella's wide eyes met hers and, just for a moment, Beca could only imagine what bliss it must be to carry around a little human like that and realize that it was entirely your own to raise and love. From the absolutely adoring look on Stacie's face, however, Beca had enough of a guess to figure out just how beautiful and wonderful motherhood could be. Although Stacie was still very sexually active and still promoted sexual liberation and overall sex positivity, she had yet to conceive another child and her sex life did nothing to detract from the pure and indescribable adoration she felt for her little daughter. There really was just something so impossibly magical about a baby that it brought everyone to tears.

"She's so precious," Theo whispered as two wide eyes and a grinning face looked up at him. A whole new life with a whole new world to explore was sitting there before him, looking up at him like he had been the one to hang the sun and moon in the sky.

"Isn't she?" Beca breathed reverently as she cradled the baby in her arms, cooing softly on pure instinct alone. Stacie was watching them, resting in Aubrey's arms with a beatific smile on her face. She was still the same Stacie they knew and loved, but she had calmed down and a new side of her was opening up now, thanks to sweet little Bella and her innocent eyes. Stacie and Aubrey had only just started dating a little while ago, their mutual interest in children bringing them together again, but their love was very real and very strong. Beca could already tell, too, that Aubrey loved Bella like her own and was determined to be more present in her life than her own father, Michael, ever had been in hers.

True, Aubrey and her father did love each other, but since he was in the military, he never had much time to spend with his daughter and this distance had taken a massive emotional toll on Aubrey. Even today, with their bond stronger than ever before, it was clear that the damage had been done and now Aubrey was twice as determined to be there for lonely children in the way her father hadn't been able to. It was what sparked her career interest. Beca thought it was a beautiful thing to do, but a more sarcastic side of her couldn't help but wonder how many babies Aubrey had made cry in her career. Aubrey, whether she knew it or not, could be a bit… controlling. Too much control was never good for a child either. But as for right here and now, in the rainbow-and-glitter covered streets, Beca could feel it in her heart that the Posen-Conrad clan was going to be a very happy one, their littlest member bringing nothing but beauty, as her name indicated, to her family and to the rest of the world.

Later that night, after Theo and Beca had parted ways, Beca found herself sitting in a very, very, VERY crowded Bella house. Apparently, when the note said that every Bella was free to come, every Bella did indeed decide to come. It was much like the night of the World Championship concert, with all of the Bellas Beca knew laughing and chatting and singing with older Bellas. The only difference were the newbies, who were younger even than Emily and her generation, who had graduated two years ago. She sat amongst them, though, connecting with some of the girls she'd left behind after she graduated.

With her was her mother and Benji. Unlike everyone else, Emily had managed to keep her freshman sweetheart. He was still just as goofy and sweet as ever even though, shockingly enough, he had since become a theater teacher at a nearby high school. He'd developed a bit of a physique in that time and had a small mustache but, other than that, he was the same old adorkable Benji that everyone knew and loved, especially Emily. It was like nothing had changed for them at all. They were still as sickeningly sweet as ever.

In the back of her mind, with a small pang of sadness, Beca realized that the same could not be said for her and Jesse. Although they had been apart for over five years now, being back here at Barden made Beca remember how he'd been her very first romance here and with him absent, the story did not feel complete yet.

"Oh my, GOD, Emily!" Fat Amy sighed loudly, tearing Beca from her sad thoughts.

"Yes, yes, I know, I know," Emily interrupted with a laugh. "I'm the dumbest, most stupid person to ever live and breathe."

"At least you're smart enough to know that!" Amy shook her head despairingly. Emily only laughed and when a few of her friends cast protective glares at Amy, she subtly gestured for them to back down. It was ok. She didn't mind Amy calling her stupid. Benji, however, looked quite offended and it took a gentle kiss from Emily to change his frown into the world's cutest smile. Beca thought she might puke.

"You two are really cute," Esther remarked, curling into the arms of her own two lovers. Even though Y.S. wasn't technically an alum, he was given free passage here because he was Esther's boyfriend. Donald had both alum and 'Esther's boyfriend' powers. Flo cast Esther another strange look, but got over it quickly. She had since stopped making the sign of the cross every time Esther spoke, but it was clear that the whole 'Lilly was just Esther overtaken by Satan' was still bothering her a bit. Beca didn't even question things like that now anymore.

"HEY, HEY, HEY!" two cheerful voices bellowed from the Bella door and Beca, Cynthia, Esther, Amy, Aubrey, Stacie, Emily, Flo, Denise, Jessica and Ashley all shrieked in delight. It was none other than Chloe Beale, Chicago Walp at her side. He grinned up at them. It was funny to see him wearing a rainbow toga, but that was partly because everyone else in the room was so used to seeing him in uniform. He'd managed to get time off, however, and was now spending some of his vacation here, at Barden. It was part of the reason why Chloe was the last Bella to arrive. She and Chicago had flown in from out-of-country. His best friend, Zeke, had come too, but since he wasn't an alum, or a lover of an alum, he was forced to stay at the hotel while Chicago got to stay with Chloe.

"Chloe!" Aubrey and Beca were the first to reach the ginger, swiftly followed by Amy, and then everyone else.

"Hey you guys!" Chloe cried as she hugged each and every Bella individually, already tearing up at the sweet reunion. Chloe, herself, had faced abandonment issues all throughout her life. Her father had left, her mother grew emotionally distant and her stepfather actually passed away just a year or so before she came to Barden. Losing three parents like that meant that Chloe had trust and attachment issues and it was why she was always so clingy and needy, finding it nearly impossible to say goodbye to anyone she loved enough to consider family. Especially the Bellas. But Chicago's speech to her about how family would never truly go away if they really loved one another had been the first thing to ever give Chloe the courage to let go and even though she had since learned how to move on, seeing the Bellas again still reduced her to a sobbing mess every time.

Chicago only watched the scene with a smile on his face. Most people would never compare the army to a group of college singers, but he could see the parallels between his brotherhood and Chloe's sisterhood and he thought it was quite beautiful. He thought it was beautiful how enduring love was and how transcendent it was. It didn't matter if you were military or music, love and family could be found in either world. It could be found in any world at all. And as Chloe continued to greet all her old friends anew, Chicago even felt a few tears sting his eyes too. Chloe had been a wonderful girlfriend over these past two years, traveling with him everywhere even though she used to be so bad at adapting to change. His words had changed her for the better and now she was a lot happier and less anxious than she'd ever been before. She was starting to understand that neither family nor home ever truly left a person and this was making her better at being the kind of girl who didn't mind traveling a lot, as a military family might have to. It was his hope to someday maybe even make Chloe his wife…

The rest of that first night was spent singing and reminiscing. Old Bellas were reunited and new and old memories were shared. There was a lot of laughing and crying both. At one point, a very old rivalry was put to rest as well.

"Chloe! Aubrey!" someone cried out. It was Alice, leader of the Bellas before Aubrey. The two girls to whom she was speaking with turned towards her as she called their names. "I just wanted to apologize, you know, for being as rude as I was back then. I promise you I have mellowed out, but I still just wanted to apologize for all of that!"

"You still remember that?" Aubrey snorted, forgiving Alice easily. Sure, Alice's words had hurt back then, but that had been literally 10 years ago.

"I do!" Chloe remarked crossly. "She'd said that my breath smelled like eggs!" the ginger crossed her arms but could be caught subtly testing her breath by breathing into her shoulder. Alice didn't miss the movement and grinned sheepishly.

"I was younger then," she said. It wasn't meant to be an excuse, but an explanation and a promise. She'd grown up in the past 10 years in the same way ever other Bella leader had and although she could still be a bit vitriolic at times, she was trying to calm herself. Aubrey shrugged in response to Alice's remark but Chloe continued to frown just a little.

At the very end of the night, though, right before everyone went to bed, Aubrey stood up on one of the tables on the house.

"HANDS IN, ACA-PITCHES!" she cried and with one accord, every girl and woman there put their hands in.

"ONE, TWO, THREE!" and the entire house exploded into a perfect harmony. Once a Bella, always a Bella. But then of course, such a ruckus had disturbed Stacie's baby daughter and the house spent the next 30 minutes trying to calm her down again.

"Ooops," Aubrey grinned sheepishly, Stacie only rolled her eyes as she began to sing a lullaby from her own childhood to the baby. One by one, some of the other Bellas joined in and suddenly, the baby Bella was being serenaded back into the dreamworld by what she thought was a choir of angels, beautiful and talented and loving, and her mama was at the lead. She was out cold in mere seconds after that.

For the next week, just as planned, the Pride Fest carried on day in and out. There was music, games, festivities, food, and everything anyone could ever want. And of course, it was all LGBTQIA+ themed. What made it the most special of all, though, was the fact that it had been hosted specifically by the Barden Bellas. Because of that, the weeklong Pride Fest had obtained the nickname of "Barden Bellas' Big 'Be Brave, Be Bold' Bash" and, every single night, there was some kind of singing competition. Whether it was a riff-off or just a simple 'who can sing the best?' or, 'who has the most original song?' (which Emily almost always won, to the pride and joy of all her Bella buddies) didn't matter. And heck, it wasn't even just the Bellas who competed. Instead, it was ALL of Barden's musical program, including choir, band and orchestra, though since the Bellas had started this whole idea, the acapella competitions were the main events.

Teams and sing-offs were taken hardcore and some new teams were generated. These teams were specifically set to be LGBT based but there were rumors that the teams might become more permanent than first believed. For example, one of the new teams was called the Trans-sectionals and was a group made exclusively up of transgender students. Another was the Bi-sectionals, made up of anyone able to carry more than one voice part. Another was called For-Gay (Forte and Gay) that was just for any queer student at all. There were a lot more, but those three were the ones that seemed mostly like to last longer than just this one event.

For Beca, though, what made this kind of nightly riff-off showdown in honor of the Bellas the most, well, throwback-ish, was the fact that Gail and John had, somehow, found a way to get back inside Barden and formally announce every single event.

"Seriously. How and why? I mean, don't these guys have anything better to do?" Beca demanded as she and her team (tonight's riff-off was being played by graduation year, so Beca had Amy, Cynthia, Esther, Jessica, Ashley, Flo and Stacie but not Chloe, Aubrey, Denise, Alice or Emily) got ready to sing, standing in the very pool where Beca had sung her first ever riff-off. Over their heads, Gail and John were sitting on the diving board, holding a camera and boom-mic while announcing the various teams.

"If you think that's crazy, look up there, where Theo is" Amy whispered, pointing to one of the seats around the pool.

"Impossible!" Beca exclaimed, but no, sure enough, standing beside Theo in his old bathrobe, was Sir Willups Brightlysmore, the man who'd hosted the riff-off in his basement, inviting the Bellas, Treblemakers, Tone Hangers, DSM and several others.

"How is he even here?! Is that even legal?" she continued to shake her head as she looked up at him.

"Technically, yes, but it is strange," Amy replied. Before either of them could say anything else, however, the riff-off began!

At the second-to-last day of the Pride Fest, however, there was one last _informal_ competition between anyone who wanted to join in. It was something that started as soon as the sun began to set and would last until the sun would almost start to rise again the next morning. It was a very long and intense competition with all-hands-on-deck for the behind the scenes work. In fact, Beca even ran into some people that she hadn't seen since her freshman year. The first was Luke, the old radio station manager, and the second was Kimmy-Jin, Beca's very first roommate.

"Hey! Becky!" Luke grinned, still recognizing Beca even after all this time. His blond hair was striped with a rainbow.

"Luke," she smiled politely back at him. "And Kimmy-Jin?"

"Hello, Beca," the woman replied with a small smile, very different from the relationship they used to have. Beca smiled at her in return and the two shook hands. If one hadn't known the truth, they would've assumed that Beca and Kimmy-Jin had been friends from the start! Kimmy-Jin wore the asexual flag as a cape and was busy helping Lukas and another man set up backup sound equipment in case the originals went haywire. It had been an intense week of singing and those mics probably needed fixing, but there was a competition coming, so there was no time for maintenance.

"We just have to hope for the best at this point!" Luke grinned as he set up a third spare speaker.

"Don't worry, I am sure Tom has everything all planned out," Kimmy-Jin replied. "He's probably over on sound check. We can ask him."

"Who's Tom?" asked Beca, not recalling the name.

"My husband," Luke replied with a smile. "We married just a year or so after you would've graduated. He's at this Pride Fest, but I think he's helping organize all of the teams. I was the one who got saddled with the equipment," he laughed.

"Well, congrats!" Beca smiled at the man and he smiled back before handing Beca a picture. Her jaw dropped. She actually did recognize the guy! It was Chloe's old boyfriend! What were the odds? Beca laughed to herself before returning the picture to Luke. He took it with one last smile before he began leading Kimmy-Jin away to another part of the stage.

Since that night's competition was supposed to be pretty informal, anyone who wanted to sing and had signed up during the week was welcome to hop up on stage and go for it. This meant that teams were very lax. For example, Chloe managed to get Chicago to sing a 'Thinking Out Loud' duet and several ex Bellas, such as Mary Elise and Kori, finally had the chance to perform and they were performing alongside several Treblemakers, no less. One was Unicycle. Yes, how many years later and he was still riding around on that blasted unicycle! Beca thought she caught Aubrey laughing and trying to get Stacie to see how, even though they had changed, good old Unicycle still had not. It made Beca laugh to see because, if rumors were true, Aubrey once had a crush on Unicycle long ago, though it was evident that her heart belonged to Stacie and Bella.

Not for the first time did Beca feel a pang of envy enter her heart and it was only worsened when Jesse and Benji took the stage. That was right, Jesse. He'd arrived on the second day of the Pride Fest and met Beca while Beca was eating with Chloe and Aubrey.

"Hey, Beca," Jesse had greeted Beca awkwardly.

"Jesse!" Beca sat up but was unable to meet Jesse's eyes.

"Long time, no see," he said.

"No kidding," Beca replied. "How have you been?"  
"I've been ok. And you?" Jesse responded.

"Wonderful," Beca's wasn't sure if her reply was supposed to have been sincere or sarcastic, but Jesse didn't bother asking.

"That's good to know," Jesse replied instead. The two managed to exchange a few more basic pleasantries before Jesse sauntered off, leaving an embarrassed Beca and a consoling Chloe and Aubrey in his wake.

Beca learned that Jesse was single again, but he seemed incredibly happy. All through the Pride Week, Jesse could be spotted messing around with his old friends and spray painting rainbows on any and everything. Perhaps his reunion with Beca had been awkward, but his reunion with Benji and all the other Treblemakers had gone amazingly. In fact, just the previous night, Jesse and his Treblemakers managed to run through an entire old set and that was impressive, given that they hadn't performed together in nearly five years. Beca didn't know if Jesse was looking for love right now or what, but frankly, she didn't care. He seemed happy enough, and that was as much thought as Beca was going to give him.

"Let me at least offer you a peace treaty," he'd insisted later that night, once Beca's initial shock of seeing him had faded somewhat.

"The depends on what the treaty is," Beca replied with a dry smile.

"Just a treat and a movie," Jesse replied, then he gave Beca a rainbow cupcake and a copy of 'The Breakfast Club'.

"Are you trying to hit on me?" Beca asked, laughing despite herself as the nostalgia hit her.

"Nonsense!" Jesse laughed and both he and Beca knew that Jesse was being serious. Although he had moved on, he still did miss Beca from time to time and he felt bad that their relationship hadn't worked out after all. Regardless of how he viewed Beca, she had still been a good friend of his for four years. That was no small feat, and even though they never saw each other anymore, every memory they had was real and this week would be their last chance to go over those memories before moving on again. Both of them had no plans on getting back together, but that was totally ok.

After Jesse's first duet with Benji, however, Denise, Emily, Emily's mother and several other old Treblemakers joined in and the group did a medley of Broadway-Disney songs. Beca watched the barest of smiles. Maybe she and Jesse weren't seeing eye to eye, but he was still as talented as ever. She would have to speak to him later if she could, if only to congratulate him. He deserved that at least.

Then several other teams came and went, like the High Notes and Sock-apellas. They were… decent. Pimp-Lo was there too, though, singing another god-awful song, this time called, "Take it From the Back". But it was about as good as "Bend Over" in Beca's eyes, if that meant anything. She would've preferred listening to the High Notes and Sock-apellas if it meant no more Pimp-Lo. Next, Bumper sang some stupid solo that was booed out about halfway in. Several teams from the World Championship managed to come over and sing and that made up for the Bumper and Pimp-Lo disasters. Esther, her two boyfriends and DJ Dragon Nutz all performed a rap. Theo sung a simple ballad of his own and he had a pretty decent voice. Beca found herself screaming for his song as loudly as Emily's mother had screamed for Emily. Saddle Up and Evermoist even managed to make it in next after Theo.

"Who the heck names their band 'Evermoist'? I mean really!" a new voice off to the side demanded.

"Sammy?" Beca cried out on instinct. It might've been two years since she'd last heard him, but she'd recognize that snobby and demanding voice anywhere. Sure enough, there he was. Beca's ex-boss from Residual Heat.

"The very same, Reggie," Sammy replied casually, arms crossed as he continued to observe what was unfolding before him. Although this Pride Fest was not meant to launch any careers or deals, scouts like Sammy were still coming out to observe the shows.

"Is Dax with you?" Beca found herself asking. Even though it was getting dark, Beca could see Sammy physically cringe at the mention of that 'obnoxious hipster boy who doesn't know when to keep his stupid trap shut'.

"Not with me now," Sammy replied. "He's too busy kissing some other guy. He had a beard and an accent."

"What now?" Beca's ears perked with interest.

"The guy that performed that little power ballad. What was his name? Leo? Tommy?" Sammy responded, irritated.

"Theo?" Beca asked, covering her mouth to suppress a laugh.

"Yeah, that's it," Sammy was totally dismissive, but Beca began to howl with laughter at the mental image of Theo kissing Dax. She quickly dismissed herself from Sammy's presence, hoping to find Dax and Theo. It didn't take long. They were busy making out not too far behind stage. Beca wasn't one to peep, but there was something so extraordinarily funny to her about watching the two awkward musicians that had helped her career make out that she couldn't resist a look. Sure enough, Theo had his arms around Dax and Dax was melting into the kiss. Beca ran off again before her laughter gave her away. She was so happy for Theo, and Dax, but she would never let either of them live it down.

Beca returned to her original place as soon as she was finished watching Dax and Theo.

"Is that idiot still there?" Sammy asked. In the time Beca was gone, the woman that had tried to recruit Pimp-Lo was back. Beca made sure to avoid eye contact with her, still mad over the fact that she had wanted Pimp-Lo's original piece over her own edited, and far better, version.

"Afraid so," Beca began to snigger again despite herself. Sammy rolled his eyes, but before he could say more, Evermoist took a bow and he clapped. "They're good, I suppose," Beca heard Sammy mutter. He made several notes on his phone and whispered to Pimp-Lo's recruiter before the next group hopped up on stage to do their song. Once again, Beca's breath was blown away. It was DSM.

Although it seemed like an impossibility, what with DSM being a German team, Beca would recognize the tall and fearsome figures anywhere. For a moment, Beca's heart skipped a beat as she thought about DSM's gorgeous and powerful leader, known simply as the Kommissar. As much as it made Beca cringe and blush, she couldn't deny that she still had a minor attraction to the woman. It wasn't like the attraction was very strong or common, given that Beca hadn't seen the woman in five years, but whenever someone mentioned anything about Germany, DSM, foreign acapella teams/competitions, or the World Championship, Beca's heart would skip a beat. It was doing that now, quite rapidly in fact, as the tiny American tried to wrap her head around the idea of Kommissar being here, back in the same country she was in. Impossible. But no, this was DSM, sure as it was Pride Month…

"And, hailing all the way from out of the country it is the German acapella team, Das Sound Machine!" John bellowed, still announcing and doubly confirming Beca's worst (best?) fears.

"And my, oh my, don't they look stunning tonight!" Gail shouted.

"Don't they, Gail?" John agreed. "But looking at it now, maybe they should've exchanged the leather for lace. The look isn't all that hot!" he was referring to the fact that DSM, despite wearing rainbow-colored outfits, was still in its trademark leather. The large group ignored these remarks, however, and stood still and silent. For a moment, there was a hush in the crowd, then one particularly large man, Kommissar's deputy, Pieter, barked a command in German and the group began singing.

For the first verse, Kommissar was nowhere to be seen and, despite herself, Beca began to worry. Where was she? Had something happened? Did Kommissar quit DSM? But that couldn't be! Was she fired? Was that even possible? What if she'd died? No, that was probably an overreaction. But seriously, where was she? Why wasn't she on stage with the others? Beca found these questions circling her mind faster and faster despite the fact that she had hardly thought of the tall, mighty German at all. It was with anger and awe that Beca acknowledged how deep a hold Kommissar had on her brain (and heart).

The chorus of the song started and then, suddenly, from the back of the stage, Kommissar herself came bursting in. Once again, seeing her face after five long years made Beca's heart burst open, and the dramatic entrance only strengthened the feeling. Beca found herself cheering for the German woman louder than she'd cheered for anyone else the whole night and she was in total awe as Kommissar completely dominated the stage. Beca almost felt embarrassed now for ever having worried at all about Kommissar. Then she felt embarrassed for feeling so moved by this woman after five long years. It wasn't like Beca had spent ALL of those years pining over Kommissar, yet here she was, seeing Kommissar again for the first time in five years and feeling more love struck than an aroused Treblemaker!

But it was hardly Beca's fault. Kommissar was a literal goddess after all. And even while wearing rainbow leather, she looked absolutely lethal. Of course, it made sense as her and DSM's song was battle-based, covering the louder and braver, more violent side of LGBT history, but still. To see Kommissar with that trademark bun, hair streaked with pink in the bun and rainbow everywhere else and to see Kommissar with different shades of pink, purple and white painted under her eyes like war-paint was just so alluring and, well, sexy. Beca wasn't going to lie, she was getting slightly turned on by all of this despite this being a very sudden and random occurrence.

Once DSM was finished, their finale consisting of them drawing fake swords from sheaths and standing in line to create a rainbow, Beca was beside herself. She was hooting and hollering loud enough for five people. Even Sammy looked at her in surprise. Beca had always been so quiet at Residual Heat, now she was acting like a madwoman. Beca completely missed Sammy and the other woman staring, however, her eyes too fixated upon the proud German woman who stood stock still on the stage, purple sword raised high in the spotlight as her eyes flashed almost aggressively. Beca just had to speak with her. She didn't know when or how, but if Kommissar was going to come all the way out here to perform, Beca had to speak to her. It was one of those urges that was sudden and random, but impossible to disobey…

"Tiny Maus! It has been far too long!" Beca may have been looking for Kommissar, but Kommissar still found her first.

"Huh? What?" Beca whipped around to see the tall woman, and her ever-present companion, Pieter, walking over.

"Was I not the one you were looking for?" Kommissar gave Beca a smug smile. How had she already known?!

"Maybe you weren't," Beca tried to challenge the other singer. "Because you're so unbelievable gorgeous and tall that it wouldn't be hard to find you anyway!" Beca added before she could control herself. Her face contorted into mortification as she realized that her attraction to Kommissar wasn't the only thing that managed to linger for five years and then resurface whenever the German somehow magically showed back up in her life.

"Then I suppose I can respect that, but perhaps I could still help you look to find who you had originally come here for?" Kommissar replied, tilting her head. Her sharp blue eyes took on an amused quality that made Beca want to scream in anger and to just let Kommissar take her right then and there. Urgh! It had been five years! Beca shouldn't still be so affected by this woman! But she was…

"Just tell us who the person is and we will help you find them," Pieter continued to urge Beca playfully. He missed picking on the troll.

"Well, I was looking for Chloe," Beca bluffed defensively. "She's the ginger one. She's kind of loud and easy to spot, but she moves around quickly, but I still think you're prettier!" once again, Beca wanted to kick herself for accidently complimenting the German woman.

"Ah yes, the one that dragged you away from me during that riff-off before I had finished toying with you," Kommissar snickered.

"Toying with me?!" Beca demanded more affronted than amazed that Kommissar could still remember such a small detail like that for so long. "I was totally about to hand you your gorgeous ass!" the brunette instantly cringed as the last two words left her mouth.

"Well, since we were unable to do that back then, you are more than welcome to do that to me tonight," Kommissar offered and Beca somehow managed to choke on nothing but the air itself. Kommissar and Pieter snickered as Beca coughed and sputtered in response to the offer.

"Just help me find Chloe," Beca groaned angrily, hoping that she would be able to bluff her way out of this one, though the longer it sat in her mind, the more pleasant Kommissar's offer became.

For the new few minutes, Beca and her two German companions fought their way through a dark sea of rainbows. Beca wasn't sure what exactly she had planned, but she figured that she could either give up and dismiss herself, insisting that she had to go back to the Bella house and DSM wouldn't be allowed in, being neither alumni or lovers of the Bellas (though that second bit didn't sound half bad) or she could just stick it out until she did somehow find Chloe and then hopefully Chloe would be able to help her out here.

Unfortunately, it took longer than expected to find Chloe and Beca actually ended up running into Evermoist and Saddle Up first.

"Hey, Bella," Calamity greeted Beca with a disdainful smirk, but there was no real malice in her eyes tonight.

"Hello, Evermoist," Beca replied. The three girls with Calamity chuckled at Beca's response.

"It's Calamity, don't you remember?" she asked.

"Afraid not," Beca grinned. "It's been a long time and opening up for DJ Khaled kind of makes it easy to forget everything else."

"Oooh, feisty!" one of Calamity's friends cackled and even Calamity was willing to laugh. As initially disdainful as she'd been of the Bellas and as initially bitter as she'd been about their leader getting to open for DJK, the bitterness was long-since over. She had nothing but good feelings for Beca and the Bellas now, and vice versa.

"Y'all having a good Pride?" one of the Saddle Up singers asked. Saddle Up and the Tonehangers had actually done a fantastic country-cover medley duo, alternating between voice and instrument as they sang covers of every genre and manage to give them all a country spin.

"Yes we are," Beca replied. "I'm actually trying to find one of my friends now," she added, casting a nervous look over at Kommissar who was looking at Calamity with interest. Beca felt a flash of envy and hoped to high Heaven that Kommissar wasn't about to go chasing after that short-haired punk-rocker and the rest of her rainbowed up band.

"The y'all have a goodnight too, and stay safe!" another Saddle Up singer demanded. Beca nodded politely.

"You and Evermoist keep raising them rainbows," Beca said, looking at both groups. Calamity saluted the smaller singer with a genuine smile before the groups parted ways. Beca exhaled in relief.

"Old friends?" Kommissar questioned as soon as the other groups were gone.

"No," Beca replied. "Just someone on the USO tour."

"Ah," Kommissar continued to stare after Calamity.

"Come on, let's go," Beca muttered, then she intentionally led Kommissar and Pieter away in the opposite direction.

Ultimately, Beca ran into Chloe at a string of stands acting as a bar. To her amazement, Chloe was still completely upright. Usually when there was alcohol involved, Chloe was one of the first people to get wasted. Tonight, however, she still looked fairly sober and was talking intently with Chicago and Zeke. Zeke wore an asexual flag and Chicago was in his rainbow toga again. Chloe had dolled herself up, still in a pride dress, but it was far fancier than anything else she'd worn that weak. In addition, the bisexual flag was painted on her cheek, but she'd added a gold line through the blue stripe of the flag.

"Chloe!" Beca cried out before turning back to the Germans. "So, uhhh, thanks for your help, but you can you go now," Beca muttered quickly. A part of her hoped that the DSM captains would take the hint and leave, but part of her hoped that they, particularly Kommissar, would stay. Beca ended up getting her subconscious wish the moment Kommissar shook her head.

"Perhaps you have found your friends, but I would very much like to meet them properly, as equals instead of enemies," she said.

"You would?!" Beca squeaked in excitement, but when she realized how revealing that overly-happy line had sounded, she tried to make a quick recover. She cleared her throat. "I mean, uhhh, you would?" she asked, much quieter.

"If you would be so kind as to introduce us," Kommissar waved a hand over to Chloe and the two soldiers.

"Beca!" before Beca had a chance to answer properly, Chloe had spotted Beca and called her out. Beca cringed as she was pretty much forced to now introduce the ginger to two old rivals.

"Hey, Chloe," Beca plastered on a false grin as she walked over to the ginger and her two companions. Kommissar and Pieter were close behind.

"Who are these guys?" Chloe asked Beca, looking at the Germans with a friendly, curious smile, but then the moment she was able to see them better when they came closer to the lights of the stand she stood at, all that friendliness vanished.

"Oh! It's them?! Impossible. I can't believe they're back!" the ginger crossed her arms and was already stepping protectively in front of Beca, as though daring either of them to do something to her. Kommissar bit her lip in amusement. As if that ginger would be any match for her! But it was still sweet to watch how possessive she got over the brunette. Kommissar did love a bit of competition, even if it was over the affections of another human being, but she could sense that Beca was still far more attracted to her than to the ginger.

"Hey, listen, ease up Chloe, they just came to say hello," Beca whispered.

"Did they really?" Chloe asked, still standing in front of Beca with her arms crossed like some kind of bodyguard. It was made especially funny because Chloe was all 'tarted out' in a fancy dress and she had fake rainbows tattooed all across her body and even had some highlights in her hair.

"Do not worry, ginger one, I have come to speak as equals tonight," Kommissar promised. "There is no reason to be jealous of me."

"Jealous? I'm not jealous," Chloe huffed, but in all honesty, this was true. Although her crush on Beca had once been very real and powerful and although her envy of all the attention Beca gave Kommissar had once been just as real, the past five years had washed all of that away.

By the time the Bellas had reunited for the USO tour, Chloe's crush had finally faded entirely, allowing her to start a relationship with the wonderful, beautiful Chicago. Although there would be a small part of Chloe that regretted never getting together with Beca, a larger part of her understood that Beca just hadn't been interested and it wouldn't have been fair to push the brunette into a relationship. 'No' meant 'no', Chloe understood that. And the way she saw it, if her love for Beca was as pure and genuine as she claimed, then she would've been ok with a rejection. It was only the self-entitled jerks who wouldn't take no for an answer and continue insisting, day in and day out, that they were a nice person and deserved the hand of whoever it was that had rejected them. Chloe didn't want to be like that. Like Amy had said, she wanted to be the girl, the family member, who lifted other people up instead of trying to hold them back to fulfill her own selfish wishes. So when she told Kommissar she wasn't jealous, she meant it, but she still wasn't going to let these German dumpkoffs hurt her friend.

"Perhaps you are not," Kommissar allowed, having sensed a genuine change in the way the ginger viewed her Tiny Maus and although she respected it and was incredibly impressed by Chloe's maturity and willingness to let go, she was still a tiny bit disappointed that there wouldn't be more of a fight to come. She had been looking for a real competition, but Chloe had forfeited the game. "But you are still getting in the way of allowing me to talk to my guide, no?" she continued.

"You said you wanted to meet me," Chloe argued. "So here I am. And these fine gentlemen are Chicago and Zeke!" she said, gesturing for each of them to stand with her. It was a subtle intimidation tactic. "They're military men," she added smugly.

"Military?" Kommissar suddenly sounded genuinely interested. "When, where and for how long?"

"Since the start of college since I had them help me fund my education, and I've been all over the place, though I've mostly been stationed around the Americas," Chicago answered. "Zeke, here, has gone through pretty much the same thing."

"What's with the sudden interest?" Chloe demanded of the Germans. "Think you can beat us in a fight, huh? Remember WWII!" Chicago and Zeke proceeded to muffle laughter behind their hands while Beca tried to pull Chloe back, in a reversal of what had happened in that riff off.

"Let's NOT get into a fight right now, ok? I want to be able to finish up the Pride Week without anything catching on fire, getting destroyed or anything else!" Beca muttered pleadingly as Chloe continued to scowl at the Germans.

"I am interested, ginger, because Pieter and I used to serve in the army too," Kommissar responded smugly.

"You did?" Chicago asked in interest.

"Yeah, I was stationed mostly Germany, sometimes in other European countries, but all to help pay for college like you two," Kommissar said. Chicago and Zeke both gave polite smiles, genuinely impressed to meet another acapella soldier.

"What brings you here to this festival, then?" Chicago asked. Kommissar gave him a mysterious smile before answering truthfully.

"I heard that Barden was going to be hosting a massive Pride Fest and I know that Barden is where an old friend of mine had graduated, so of course I knew she'd be here and of course I'd have to come back," the blond threw a look at Beca who was now blushing violent red. Thank goodness it was dark right now! Had Kommissar really come all the way back here for her?

"We were on tour at the time and everything just matched up perfectly," the blond continued. Ok, so maybe she hadn't flown all the way in from Germany, but she'd still come to see Beca. That was something. Chloe began to size Beca up appreciatively.

"You never said you kept in touch!" she declared, some of her antagonism towards the Germans fading away now that they were proving that they really had not come looking for a fight tonight.

"We didn't," Beca muttered. "But she is like some kind of gorgeous huntress because she found me again!" Beca cringed again at what she'd said.

"So she came all this way here for you?" Chloe gushed. "Romantic!"

"Yes, I would hope so," Kommissar agreed. "Since that is the end goal, no?"

"After all this time?" Beca couldn't help but laugh. Maybe her pining hadn't been as one-sided and stupid as she thought.

"Of course," Kommissar replied and Beca felt herself melt a little.

"Well then you two ought to spend the rest of the night together!" Chloe demanded, eagerly taking up the position of wingman because she sensed Beca's old attractions flaring up. Although, initially, she had been more than ready to throw down and fight the Germans off, her romantic side was starting to take control again and now she wanted nothing more than to help Beca get some tonight.

"The lake around the Bella house has some canoes if you think a sail in the moonlight would be good!" she continued brightly.

"Chloe! Shut up!" Beca whispered, but to no avail.

"Sounds wonderful," Kommissar replied. "Which way is the lake?" Chloe pointed obediently over her shoulder. "Come then, Maus, let us away!"

"Wait a sec!" Chloe interrupted with a cackle before Kommissar could drag the protesting Beca away. Kommissar heard the mischievous note in Chloe's voice and was more than happy to listen. Chloe then whipped around markers, gold blue, purple and pink.

"Hold still!" she demanded of Beca. Beca began to plead but Kommissar and Pieter both held her into place as Chloe approached her with the markers. Chicago and Zeke laughed while Beca swiveled her eyes over to them, she was unable to move her head.

"Help me!" she pleaded with the soldiers.

"Sorry," Chicago replied and he raised a glass sadly for the brunette as Chloe began to draw. He knew better than to get in Chloe's way when there was something out there that Chloe really wanted. Beca pretended to howl in despair.

"Oh, come now Maus, it is not all that bad!" Kommissar cried. Beca was painfully aware of the fact that Kommissar had chosen to wrap one arm right above Beca's panty line and the other right under Beca's boobs while Pieter was only holding her shoulders.

"It is if you are a tiny American with no spine!" Pieter grinned. Beca hissed up at him but he only laughed in response as Chloe continued to work, holding Beca's face in place as she drew and marked.

"It's easy for you to say!" Beca muttered at Kommissar. "Your gorgeous face isn't the one being graffitied on."

"You think my face is gorgeous?" Kommissar asked loudly and Beca groaned in embarrassment.

"I mean the paint on it was gorgeous," she tried to protest. "It really brings out your cheekbones and makes you look like a goddess!" everyone in attendance, the soldiers, Pieter and Chloe, began to laugh while Beca only groaned again.

Once Chloe was done, however, she stepped away and Pieter and Kommissar both released Beca.

"What did you do to me!?" the brunette demanded, nearly stumbling as she was released. Chloe only smirked and took a picture. The flash from Chloe's phone temporarily stunned Beca, but once the bright lights stopped flickering behind Beca's eyelids, she was able to see the picture Chloe had taken. Just like Chloe, Beca now had a bisexual flag painted on her cheek. This time, though, the gold line went through the pink portion.

"Ah, you look quite handsome!" Pieter snickered, but Kommissar said nothing, choosing instead to only smile proudly at Chloe's work. She approved, both of what Chloe had done and of Chloe herself. She and this ginger would make good friends, the German was sure of it.

Beca subtly mouthed out how much she hated the ginger, but said ginger only shrugged cheerfully as she took her phone back. She could see the way Beca looked at Kommissar even after all this time and she had the feeling that Beca had been blabbering and accidently complimenting the German since the moment they first reunited. It reminded Chloe of how it had been the first time she ever spoke face to face with Chicago (in fact, Chloe had even remembered Kommissar during that first interaction with Chicago and it was an unmissed irony). Now here she was, still with him two years later and just as happy as when she began. Maybe the same would happen for Beca and Kommissar. After all, that would make it the second time a Bella captain fell for a soldier after accidently blabbing about how much she was in love.

So while Chloe, Pieter and her soldier friends remained at the little bar, Beca and Kommissar went out to the lake. Already, Benji and Emily were there and as were Amy and Bumper, but somehow Beca had the feeling that Amy and Bumper weren't being quite as PG as Benji and Emily. Once again, the brunette thanked the night for its darkness before joining Kommissar out on the lake.

"So you can canoe, huh? You can do anything," Beca muttered, though she had learned how to canoe back at the Lodge of Fallen Leaves and the skill had served her when she and Amy were chasing after Amy's criminal father, Fergus, who was still behind bars. Amy was totally fine with it.

"It is just another small skill I have picked up over my years," Kommissar agreed as they moved closer to the center of the lake.

"Was it before or after the World Championship?" Beca asked. Kommissar understood the implied question and, once they reached a good spot, she ceased rowing and started talking.

Apparently, after the World's, even though Beca and friends had gone their separate way, most of DSM continued to work as a full-time acapella group. Sure, members came and went, but everything else stayed mostly the same. Along the way, Pieter ended up getting married to the blond beatboxer and even though Kommissar had been proud and pleased by their marriage, she did start to feel a little bit like a third wheel when it came to Pieter. Not too long after that, Ari, the girl Chloe had sung against in the riff-off ended up getting married to some musical producer and she left DSM and Kommissar's own Danish cousin, Birgitte, had since gotten married to some dude who worked in theater. Although Birgitte wasn't technically a DSM singer, she had helped Kommissar cope with the 'loss' of Pieter and Ari, but now she was married too. An unexpected loneliness crept into Kommissar's heart and no matter how many lovers she had, the loneliness never died entirely.

Then at last, while touring in America's west coast, she came across the Barden ad for a massive, weeklong Pride Fest on social media. It had taken the German a moment, but when she realized that she knew the name 'Barden' she knew at once that she had to attend the festival. It was a bit of a tight squeeze into the schedule, but Kommissar made it happen and she and DSM had been able to perform, as Beca saw.

Now here they sat, on the Barden lake in a canoe under the moonlight. There were still pink dyes in Kommissar's hair and the paint under her eyes hadn't rubbed off yet. It was still so funny to see her dressed like some kind of soldier, despite being covered in pinks and rainbows, but the life of a queer person sometimes was like a battlefield, so maybe the attire wasn't all that silly and seemingly dissonant.

"And you? Has life turned out the way you expected it to?" Kommissar asked, genuinely curious. Beca gave a dry laugh before answer.

"Honestly, no," she said. "For better and worse, life has been vastly different…" then it was her turn to tell the story.

Of course, she mentioned graduation and she mentioned working with RH before finally quitting. She mentioned the USO tours and how she'd landed a job with DJ Khaled. He had been unable to come to this Pride Fest, but he did email the link to several videos he'd recorded of himself, wishing everyone else a happy Pride Month. The videos were aired at the start of the night's competition and they actually had been quite sweet, him promising that he was with them in spirit and singing several songs about coming out and being brave. It was slightly ruined by the large hive of bees buzzing right beside the camera, but hey, it was the thought that counted. Besides, it was DJ Khaled, the crowd loved him. (On a side note, Snoop Dogg had sent in a video too, courtesy of Sammy, who was still working with Snoop).

"I never congratulated you for that," Kommissar said. "I remember seeing you with one of his workers."

"Theo?" Beca asked with a laugh. She hadn't seen Theo since before the sun set. That meant Kommissar must've been watching her longer than expected. "Just how long have you been stalking me, anyway?" she pressed.

"Only for today," Kommissar shrugged, not even bothering to deny that she had indeed been stalking the brunette. Beca laughed.

"You seemed very friendly with Theo," Kommissar continued, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Oh, no, no, no," Beca grinned and shook her head. "I think he might've wanted to, but I never did. Last time I saw him, he was making out with one of my old boss' employees," Beca shook her head, wondering briefly if Sammy had managed to pry Dax away from Theo or not.

"And that old Treblemaker?" Kommissar asked again. A flash of pain crossed Beca's face and that was all Kommissar needed. She apologized genuinely for bringing up a sore topic, but she still couldn't resist a smirk. Beca really was all hers for the taking.

"Don't worry, some loves just weren't meant to last," Beca said in reference to Jesse.

"But you will try again, won't you?" asked Kommissar, voice more gentle than Beca had ever heard from her before.

"Yes. I just don't know who with," Beca answered, though she was staring up at Kommissar now.

"I don't know either," Kommissar replied. "But how about, until you find someone, you spend time with me? I haven't got anyone else either."

"Oh, you haven't?" Beca asked suddenly.

"You know that, Maus," Kommissar replied.

"I don't know, Calamity might disagree," Beca finally acknowledged some of her own minor jealousy.

"Ah, envious?" Kommissar laughed despite how serious the mood had been so far. "I was only ever looking at her because she reminded me of me, yet you never once accidently complimented her."

"Well, she's not really my type," Beca muttered, embarrassed now for having ever brought up the subject of her envy. Kommissar probably wouldn't ever let her live that one down now.

"She's just as rude and arrogant as I am," Kommissar replied smugly. "And we were both your rivals."

"You're prettier," Beca grunted, then she slapped her forehead.

"So you only go for the pretty ones," Kommissar sounded pleased while Beca groaned at herself again. "Or maybe it is just the soldiers. Your Chloe seemed very interested in Chicago even though I thought she used to have a thing for you."

"She did," Beca grunted. "But I guess you're right, military and music just go well together."

"Good thing, then, that Calamity was never in the army as a proper soldier," Kommissar said. "Or I might've had more of a competition."

"Trust me," Beca said without thinking. "No one could ever compare to you," then she slapped her forehead again.

"But truly, do you wish to travel with me?" Kommissar asked, returning to a more serious topic a bit later. "We could partner up."

"Can we do that?" Beca asked. "If you're touring and I'm working with DJ, how will that line up?"

"Perhaps you can get his permission to help produce for DSM? Like I said, we are an official band and even though our music and his aren't exactly the same, I can work something out and maybe have DSM start shifting in a new direction musically, even if only for a little while…"

Kommissar trailed off, leaving the field open for Beca to add her own two cents. It really did feel so strange. If anyone had told Beca, mere hours ago, that she might be making a business and romance deal with her old rival/flame while out on Barden lake, she would've laughed, but life really did have a strange way of making the impossible happen. Now Beca wondered if it could work another impossible miracle…

"Sure," she agreed. "I mean, I don't have anyone I'm dating right now, you know…" Beca wondered briefly then if the reason she'd brushed Theo off was because her subconscious was still waiting for someone else, even though, back then, it was illogical to think she ever would've even seen that someone else again, let alone hook up with them, but here they were now, mere inches away from each other in the moonlight.

"Wait a moment, who ever said anything about dating, Maus?" Kommissar teased and Beca realized her blunder too late.

"I meant 'date' as in, 'somewhere to go at a certain time'. I don't have any dates I need to keep," she tried to amend, stuttering awkwardly.

"Sure you did," Kommissar chuckled and Beca blushed, once again relieved that it was so late. The moon wasn't bright enough to show her blush.

"But I suppose that if you do have a lot of free time, we need not spend all of it in a recording studio," Kommissar said slowly.

"What do you mean by that?" Beca tried to keep her cool at the insinuations.

"I mean that, if you don't have anyone to date, that is, no dates to keep," the woman paused to smirk while Beca pouted. "I could fill that role."

"Only if you think you're ready," Beca tried to puff her chest up, but Kommissar only let out a bark of laughter.

"Excellent," she said, satisfied. She felt the same way Beca did. It was strange to be back together after so long, but it was actually really nice and even though it might've been a bad idea to try rekindling a small flame that never stood a chance anyway, it seemed to be something that both of them wanted. Beca was clearly still interested and Kommissar knew that she actually really would like to work with the tiny maus again. And if everything went according to plan, even though it seldom did, that flame would have the chance to generate some sparks at long last.

"So that's it, then?" Beca asked. "I ask DJ if I can produce for you and we work together?"

"If all goes well, yes," Kommissar nodded.

"Ok. But what do we do now for the rest of the night? And tomorrow?" Beca asked.

"If you are not too busy, perhaps you could spend some of that day with me," Kommissar suggested and Beca's heart leapt again at the softness and genuine interest in Kommissar's voice.

"I haven't got any plans for the next 36 hours," Beca said with a stupid grin.

"Excellent," Kommissar repeated. "Because nor do I," and before Beca even had time to react, Kommissar had kissed her. It was a small, chaste, gentle thing, but it held so much surprise, change and chance that Beca thought she would die right then and there, but honestly, that would've been totally fine with her. In the distance, a canoe overturned and an outraged Amy and Bumper broke the surface of the lake, sputtering and swearing as the culprits, Flo, Cynthia and Mary, tried to row away as fast as they could. Beca missed it all, however, eyes too fixated upon Kommissar to notice anything else, and from the way Kommissar was staring back, Beca knew she was just as blind with love.

 **AN: Sorry this was so long and canonically impossible (I had a lot of characters to get through), but I just wanted to cram everyone back together for one last hurrah since so many were cut from the third film. As you can see, this takes place two years after PP3 (and five after PP2) and all the old Barden alumni return to celebrate Pride Month and some old bands manage to slide back up into the picture as well (shameless Becommissar fan, sorry!) Anyway, as long and impossible as this was, I hope you liked it anyway. Leave a comment, tell me what you think. I really am proud of this fic!**


	12. Day 12: Iris' Crush

Iris Long felt her stomach twist again as something of a smile-grimace flickered across her face. Theresa Madge missed the look entirely, having already turned away and made off for her next class. Iris watched her go, stomach still churning in a strange mix of pain and pleasure. She wasn't sure when or where or how it had happened, but she knew that she was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her. Iris Long was in love with Theresa Madge. The two had only been friends for about a year, but all of a sudden, Iris had begun to see her classmate in a new way. She had begun to look at Theresa romantically instead of platonically. All of that beauty that Theresa already possessed had suddenly been magnified in Iris' purple eyes and all she wanted was Theresa.

Suddenly the two girls weren't just friends anymore. Or at least, Iris wanted them to be 'not just friends anymore'. As far as she knew, the feeling was not mutual, but that almost didn't matter to Iris anymore. Maybe she could change Theresa's mind. Maybe she could convince Theresa that they could be something beautiful if only they would be together. Iris was a huge romantic, she had a lot of tricks to win a girl over. Maybe one of them would work on Theresa and the two would become a couple! It had become Iris' greatest dream that the feisty girl might someday feel the same for her and maybe they could get together. If only Iris just had a bit more courage to ask…

And, as conceited as it was, Iris figured that she would be a good match for Theresa. Their relationship would be built upon a foundation of friendship, after all. It wouldn't just be a one-night stand or a drunken kiss, it would be a year of laughter and support. It wouldn't be something simple or superficial that founded their love, it would be something far more serious and stable. They already had so much in common and enjoyed each other's company well enough, so why couldn't they take their relationship to the next level? As far as Iris was concerned, it was entirely logical to want a romance with Theresa and it was entirely logical to think that it could happen.

Besides, Iris' feelings for Theresa were pure. She didn't just want for her body or looks, though both were amazing. She just wanted Theresa for Theresa. She wanted every bit of Theresa. She wanted Theresa's mind and voice, happiness and humor, heart and affection. Iris wasn't just in it for anything carnal or physical, she was in it for the emotional and the romantic appeal too. Now, there was nothing wrong with finding someone sexually attractive and Iris was sure that, one day, she may want Theresa in that way too, but for right now, Iris only wanted Theresa in a purely romantic way. She wanted to do all that cheesy stuff teenage couples did. She wanted to get drunk with Theresa, make out with Theresa, take walks through parks and forests with Theresa. She wanted to get into stupid arguments only to try and use flowers and song to make it up to her. The idea of anyone suggesting that she may only want Theresa for her body was something Iris found deeply offensive, both to her and Theresa, reducing both of them to mere sex objects when Iris wanted so much more than that. Sure, sex was something Iris wanted too, but not nearly as much as she just wanted Theresa.

But Iris' desires, while they were all fine and dandy, had yet to go anywhere. Try as she did, Iris could never pluck up the courage to tell Theresa how she really felt. They'd been friends for a year and Iris' crush had gone on for about two months and still nothing had outwardly changed between the two of them. They still had classes together, still ate lunch together, still talked and laughed together, etc. The change had all only been inward, Iris staring at Theresa too long and too deep, Iris never remembering what Theresa had said to her because she was too busy imagining a whole life with the girl, and Iris just getting lost in a lovely paradise whenever Theresa was with her. She was stuck in a vicious cycle of either never stopping staring at Theresa, or being too terrified to even look in her direction, and sometimes, the mere thought alone of Theresa would send Iris into giddy and nervous hysterics, chuckling nervously to herself as she imagined her crush materializing before her...

"Iris? Hello?" Clover waved her hand in front of her friend's glazed purple eyes.

"Hmmm, what?" Iris mumbled happily. Clover exhaled slowly, already know what was happening.

"IRIS!" she snapped, slapping the girl's shoulder.

"Huh?! What?!" Iris snapped to attention.

"You dazed off thinking about your Theresa again," Clover grunted.

"What? No I didn't! And she's not _mine_!" Iris tried to protest, but the blush creeping across her cheeks begged to differ. Clover sniggered.

"Come on, Iris, there's nothing wrong with your little crush, but you're drooling on your notes!" the ginger said.

"Huh?" Iris looked down at her paper. There wasn't any drool, but she realized that by acknowledging that Clover's remark might've been valid, she essentially confirmed Clover's theory that she had been daydreaming about Theresa. Again. Dang it.

"Come on, Iris, I'm pretty sure the whole school knows you've got it super bad for Theresa, except for Theresa herself, unfortunately," Clover laughed as Iris glared at her. "You moon over her all the time and are always stuck between either never looking at her or never taking your eyes off of her. It's as clear as day that you want her, you always look like you're trying to find and excuse to hug her. Why don't you just ask her out? You've been friends for over a year now, she ought to understand, even if she says no. What do you have to lose?"

"Her, for starters," Iris grunted. When Clover gave her a disbelieving look, Iris became defensive. "Look!" she cried. "I have no idea if Theresa is even into girls. I don't think she is because she doesn't even joke about it and I don't want things to get weird between us if I ask and she says no!"

"I think you're more worried about rejection," Clover snickered. "Besides, not joking about being lesbian doesn't automatically make her straight."

"Well of course I know that!" Iris confirmed angrily. "But I've read all of her other cues and there are none to indicate an interest in other girls and I don't want to embarrass myself by asking her! You're darn right I don't want to face rejection, but no one does!"

"Because you love her?" Clover continued to goad the tiny brunette.

"You know that!" Iris was still growling angrily at the ginger as her embarrassment, anger and love surfaced from her heart.

Clover continued to tease Iris just a bit longer on her hopeless infatuation with Theresa, but when Iris looked like she was genuinely getting upset, Clover took pity on the girl and ceased her jokes. As much as Clover liked to tease her friend, she never wanted to actually hurt Iris, so she always made sure to ease off when Iris looked like she was getting too close to an edge. This was definitely one of those times.

"Look, Iris, you know you'll never truly know what may be if you don't ask," Clover whispered sincerely.

"I know, but I'm worried that it'll be a negative!" Iris whined, but her voice was softer now that she knew Clover was being serious.

"So what if it is?" Clover replied. "Even if Theresa is only into guys, she won't abandon you as a friend. Trust me, I know her."

"I'm not worried about her abandoning me," Iris protested. "I'm just worried that if she says no, the few hopes I have that she might say yes will be crushed…" the tiny brunette trailed off sadly as Clover began to understand. Iris wasn't just worried about the initial sting of a possible rejection. She also feared how such a rejection would make it impossible for the tiny brunette to dream about Theresa anymore. If Theresa said no, that was it. There was no more hoping or dreaming. If Theresa said no, that was all there was to it. If Theresa said no and found herself another lover, Iris would be forced to sit through it, knowing that Theresa was romantically involved with someone that wasn't Iris. But at the same time…

"What if she says yes?" Clover pleaded, but Iris continued to shake her head stubbornly, far too afraid to ask. It was how Clover knew that Iris' crush on Theresa was serious. That wasn't to say any of her past crushes were false, but Clover could feel it in her bones that Iris' crush on Theresa was far deeper than anything simple. Why else would Iris be so afraid to ask her classmate out if said classmate didn't mean a lot to her? If Iris had been brave enough to ask Theresa out, Clover would've known that the infatuation wasn't so bad, but Iris was so adamant in not even hinting at romance with Theresa that it was pretty darn clear that Iris was absolutely head over heels for Theresa. Clover thought it was adorable, but Iris' refusal to ask Theresa out was getting frustrating.

"If she says yes, I'll actually have to keep her!" Iris continued, listing her second fear. At the end of every rom-com she and Clover had ever seen, the ending was usually Person A kissing Person B, but it never went on to show how the two lovers coped with everyday life. It never showed the couple living together as lovers. Instead, it always made that first kiss look like the end goal, like everything after that would be smooth sailing. Clover could understand why Iris was afraid of romance. It wasn't nearly as simple as those movies said and those movies only ever showed a fraction of the story anyway. It was only ever the first kiss, but never anything after.

"And she may leave me anyway! Assuming she doesn't just say no in the first place!" Iris finished with a sigh, but given how stressed this crush was making her, just for a moment, it seemed like Theresa turning Iris down would be more of a blessing than a curse. Clover could only shake her ginger head sadly. She was more than willing to be Iris' wing-girl, but Iris had to make the first move first. Clover wasn't just going to act as a go-between for Iris and her crush. Iris had to take that first step and prove she had the guts to love Theresa before Clover would intercede, but given how Iris was behaving, that first step wouldn't come for a very long time. Iris may not have heard Clover thinking these things, but she still agreed and all she could do was continue to stare forlornly at the notes, pining for the girl who didn't realize just how much Iris loved her. The one thing that Iris hated about her crush more than anything else was the thought that Theresa may one day date someone while Iris was still so in love with her. The thought alone was enough to make Iris' envy peak, even if Theresa was totally single.

The rest of class passed easily, but Iris could only think of Theresa, doodling the girl's name in her notebook with a frown on her face. Clover caught sight of the name written in fancy cursive in the margins of Iris' work and she sighed softly. That poor brunette really loved Theresa, didn't she? If only she would just ask! Though Clover could understand all of Iris' fears, rejection, acceptance, the general stress of being a lover, potential breakups, etc. she still wished the girl would just ask Theresa out instead of constantly staring at her whenever they were together. Theresa clearly wasn't getting the signals and was unaware of Iris' more-than-platonic feelings, so Clover wished that Iris would just ask! Clover wanted Iris to act instead of think, but Iris didn't seem too willing to do that and she continued to muse sadly on the life she might never know.

Once the class was done, Iris shifted grumpily to her next class. Theresa was in it and the moment Iris saw Theresa, she smiled, despite the fact that her heart had started to race again.

"Hey again, Iris!" Theresa greeted innocently, sitting at the desk beside her friend.

"Hello, Theresa. It's been so long!" the tiny brunette joked, donning a fake smile that duped Theresa into thinking nothing was wrong. If only realized just how much Iris wanted her. But all through the whole class, despite having multiple chances to do so, Iris never once made any attempt to ask Theresa out or tell her that she loved her. Instead, she kept her cool and pretended only to be platonically interested in the other girl.

Just like always, the act was perfect, and Theresa didn't suspect a thing. Iris didn't know if this relieved or saddened her. She didn't know what would've scared her more: Theresa noticing and making the first move, or Theresa continuing to be blind to Iris' affections for her. But because Iris couldn't decide which fate would ultimately be worse, she reverted back to what she always did and remained in that invisible limbo, still acting totally calm and relaxed around Theresa. She was capable of being relaxed around the girl, but the giddy desire to giggle like an idiot was never too far away. And Iris still couldn't figure out whether she wanted to stare at Theresa until her eyes melted, or if she wanted to never even look in Theresa's direction again because even catching a glimpse of the girl brought about the nervous giggles.

But every time Theresa looked away a stupid and giddy grin, laced with sorrow and longing, lit up Iris' face. She was so close to just randomly giggly nervously that she had to bite her tongue and tell herself to stay calm. But whenever Theresa would look her way, Iris would quickly turn back to her textbook, praying that Theresa hadn't caught her staring. It would've frustrated Clover to no end, had Clover been in that class with the two of them, but she wasn't, so that left Iris and Iris alone to deal with this issue. Theresa was Iris' crush, and, at the rate things were going at right now, that was how it appeared that she would stay.

 **AN: This slight-downer story was based off of true events. There was a girl I met in 8th grade and towards the end of that year and into 9th and even a bit of 10th, I had the hugest crush on her, but was too shy to ever say anything because she gave no indication of being into girls. She ended up finding out about the crush and confirmed my fears. 100% straight. So no, in the same way I never got with the girl of my dreams, Iris never gets with Theresa. It's a sad thing, but it's life. Everyone has had that one huge crush that rejected them, I'm sure.**

 **(I will admit, as embarrassing as it is, that even though my crush on this girl is mostly over, if I ever see her, it comes back to me. After four years, I'm still a little in love with that girl, but she is wonderful. She's funny, feisty, beautiful, hard-working and just generally amazing, but, like Theresa, she's straight and there's nothing to be done about that. We just never were meant to be. Sadly).**


	13. Day 13: Beach Trip

"WOO HOOOOOOO!" a joyful voice screamed out as its owner jumped from the massive cliff into the dark waves waiting below. For a moment after the jump, there was only silence, but then a head of short, spiky black hair broke the surface of the water.

"Come on in! The water is fine!" the jumper cried back to her friends waiting on the cliff above.

"I thought I was supposed to go first, Alice!" one of the friends, Jacob, bellowed back down in good humor. Alice only gave him a playful salute before vanishing under the water again and swimming away from the cliffs and towards the shore. Jacob chuckled lowly before taking a step back and turning to his other two companions: Edward and Bella.

"So, who's up next?" Jacob asked. When Edward and Bella only exchanged amused looks, but said nothing, Jacob shrugged. "I guess that'll be me then," he said, and then he took another step backward away from the cliff's edge. This was gonna be HUGE!

"Oh, come on now, is all this really necessary?" Edward sighed slowly, right before the younger boy jumped.

"Absolutely. There is no other way to properly start a La Push beach trip than with a good old-fashioned cliff dive!" Jacob replied with a totally serious expression, then before Edward could say anything else, he'd sprinted forward and then jumped off the cliff as hard as he could.

"AAAWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he howled as he fell, his jumping having been as dramatic and drastic as his "battle cry".

Edward and Bella both watched him swim after Alice as soon as he'd resurfaced, looking stoked, to say the least.

"I wish you had told me he was like this sooner," Edward chuckled dryly to Bella.

"If I had, you would've never gotten together with him," Bella reminded her vampire friend.

"True," Edward acknowledged Bella's statement. "Now who's going next?"

In the end, Bella went next and then Edward went last. Edward helped Bella swim from the cliff to the shore where Jacob and Alice were waiting by the picnic Jacob had set up earlier before meeting Alice, Edward and Bella at the base of the cliff they'd just jumped off of. Today was supposed to be a bit of a beach trip for everyone and no beach trip was complete without a picnic. A really, really, really large picnic.

"Wow! You really went all out!" Bella smiled in awe as she took in all the food laid out for her and the others. Along with the typical sandwiches, salads, lemonade, and cookies, there were a lot more complicated and expensive dishes like steak, chicken, pulled pork, pasta and pastries.

"Ain't nothing wrong with that!" Jacob grinned excitedly, finally getting to eat all the food he'd worked so hard to make and bring here.

"You pig," Bella teased as she started with a simple salad, sitting on the large blanket Edward had laid out for her.

"Wolf," Jacob corrected, howling a little before he started stuffing his face full of anything he could get his hands on.

"You certainly are wolfing everything down, aren't you?" Alice teased. Jacob pretended to puke in response to her lame joke, so she kicked a bit of sand in his direction before joining Bella on her towel, snuggling up against her side.

Jacob watched as Alice kissed Bella's cheek several times before turning his gaze over in Edward's direction. Edward knew at once what Jacob was asking and, at first, he shook his head.

"Absolutely not," he pretended to warn the wolf.

"Pretty please?" Jacob replied, getting up and walking over to Edward despite Edward trying to wave him away. Jacob sat down beside Edward stubbornly and held his cheek out to Edward.

"Oh, come on!" Edward pleaded, but when Jacob only continued to wait for Edward's kiss, Edward sighed slowly before acquiescing, his cold lips pressing gently against Jacob's burning face. Jacob growled with pleasure before returning the gesture, leaving a BBQ stain on Edward's pale face. "Gross," Edward wiped his cheek off dramatically, but he was smiling now.

After about 10 minutes of this cutesy exchange between Jacob and Edward, and then Alice and Bella, the rest of the Cullens arrived to the beach trip. They all made sure to take seats in an area covered in shade. Even Edward and Alice, though they were sitting with their mortal lovers, were somewhat protected by the sun because there had been umbrellas waiting for them along with all the food.

"Sorry we're late!" Carlisle shouted over to them as he and the rest of his family walked over. "The hospital was exceptionally busy today, what with all the summer-related injuries, you know."

"It's not a problem at all," Bella assured the vampire patriarch.

"I brought more food in case you were still hungry," the vampire matriarch, Esme, said as she took a seat beside her husband. She pulled several giant wicker baskets from behind her back and while Bella gave a weak smile, Jacob's eyes lit up.

"Thank you ma'am!" he cried, then he proceeded to wolf down all the contents of those baskets as well.

"Eeew," Rosalie made sure to give Jacob her best glare, but he ignored her entirely. Emmett only nudged her and laughed.

"Come on, babe, you can't deny that that wasn't funny," he insisted. Rosalie only huffed again, sitting delicately in a chair she'd brought with her. There was no way she'd get sand all over her fancy swimsuit (which she'd worn for the aesthetic and not the desire to actually join in on the watery portion of the beach trip)! It was a miracle the other Cullens had even been able to drag her out here at all. Jasper, who hadn't done more than smile beatifically, took a quiet seat beside Emmett and Rosalie and just enjoyed the warm summer air.

"Gay-cob! Hey! Gay-cob!" three male voices bellowed from the water. Jacob and all the others turned to see Quil, Embry and Seth, three of Jacob's best friends and fellow shape-shifter wolves, swimming in from the same direction Jacob, Edward, Bella and Alice had come in after their cliff dive earlier. They were, as always, shirtless, but the moment they rose up from the waves, Jacob and the Cullens all began to laugh because every single one of the boys had some kind of rainbow painted across his chest. Seth revealed that he had little Pride Flags stored securely within the pockets of his swim trunks. He made sure to give the flag to Jacob as soon as they were all together on the shore.

"Gee, thanks," Jacob grunted as he took the flag. Seth only grinned at him before pointing to the flag.

"Read what it says," he insisted. He had rainbows on his cheeks while Quil had a large rainbow arching across his chest and Embry had rainbow wolf paws painted on each of his pecs. Of course, the paint was waterproof. They had known about Jacob's beach trip and even though they weren't formally invited, all three of them knew that no one would've minded them crashing the party and coming along. So now here they were.

"What it says?" Jacob echoed in confusion, then he unraveled the scrap of rainbow cloth: _Team Gay-job. He plays for his own team and the other team!_ and above the words "own team" was the male gender sign and above the words "other team" was a pair of vampire fangs.

"Oh my God, you guys," Jacob hid his face in his hands while everyone else laughed at him.

"I think it's very fitting," Edward remarked, playfully tucking the flag behind Jacob's ear.

"You look so pretty now, Jacob!" Bella agreed with a similar tone. Alice only laughed at the scene, still clinging to Bella's arm. When Jasper and Emmett got a look at the flag, they began to roar with laughter and even Rosalie offered up a smirk, though it was more because Jacob was being humiliated than anything else. Carlisle only smiled and shook his head while Esme came over to whisper to Jacob.

"We're so proud of you, honey," she said. Then she handed him a much larger and prettier pride flag, one that was meant to be more serious than the one Seth had given. In addition, upon closer inspection, Jacob realized that every one of the seven stripes had a single supportive sentence written in it, one from every Cullen, minus Edward.

"Wow. Thank you," Jacob breathed, feeling tears spring into his eyes. So far, his entirely family had been fine with accepting his sexuality, but to see the level of thought and affection in this gift was enough to make him cry.

"What is it?" Edward asked, hearing that tiny break in Jacob's voice. Jacob showed him the flag and when Edward read the messages within the stripes, he smiled fondly up at Esme who only winked back down at him before walking over to Bella.

"Don't think I didn't make you one too," she grinned.

"Thank you," Bella murmured in gratitude as she took the flag. It was much like the one Jacob had, but this time, Alice was the one missing from this flag. Alice leaned over in excitement, eager to read what messages her family had left for her and Bella. Although she had the power to read the future, she didn't usually do it unless something important was coming up and she hadn't realized that this little double-date to the beach was going to be some mini pride party, yet that was exactly what it was turning out to be. And since she hadn't considered trying to sneak a peek into this beach trip, Bella's new pride flag surprised her just as much as it surprised Bella herself.

"Awww, that's so sweet of you!" Alice put a hand to her unbeating heart and looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, Alice, please don't!" Bella said, half joking, half serious. She wasn't sure what she'd do if the tiny vampire started crying, especially because when Alice cried, it was usually very loud and dramatic.

"Don't worry, I won't," Alice promised, then she kissed Bella's cheek again as she wrapped herself and Bella up in the flag and Bella grinned.

"Awww, it's so cute that it makes me sick!" Emmett declared.

"Oh, shut up, Emmett," Alice grunted as Esme threw Emmett a small glare.

"What?" he asked innocently. Edward threw an empty bottle at his brother's head.

"Ouch!" Emmett cried indignantly as the bottle bounced off of him with a metallic clang.

"Boys," Esme finally warned.

"Sorry," Emmett and Edward both apologized but neither of them actually looked sincere. Esme only sighed again but said no more. This was supposed to be a fun day, she didn't want to go full blown Mama Bear on them today.

"So, now that we're all here, how about we go have some real fun?" Seth pleaded, pointing to the waves. Quil and Embry took off at once, needing no further incentive to get back into the waves. Jacob turned to look at Edward.

"Oh come on, do I really have to?" Edward pretended to complain.

"Edward, go play with your boy toy!" Jasper encouraged.

"Whoa, ok! Didn't need to hear that!" Rosalie pretended to cover her ears.

"Oh, shut up," Jasper replied, throwing a fistful of sand at her. She shrieked in anger, so Jasper took off running for the water. Rosalie wouldn't follow him in because of what the salt would do to her perfectly golden locks. Emmett charged in after Jasper, once again hitting the water so hard that the waves were knocked over by him instead of the other way around.

"Come on, Edward, let's go," Bella laughed, standing up as the tide temporarily reversed from the force to Emmett slamming into it.

"How come you're inviting him and not me?" Alice pouted, still sitting on their shared blanket, pouting.

"Because I already know you'll follow me in," Bella replied fondly and Alice's frown melted away at once. Although Bella could be very socially awkward and socially useless, there were rare moments when she would say something so perfect that even Alice would swoon. This was one of those times, and Alice could only agree, hopping to her feet and dancing around excitedly as she waited for her girlfriend to follow her into the sea.

"Ok, fine," Edward pretended to groan, then he stood as well and followed Alice and Bella into the water.

"You coming, Jacob?" Edward asked, not bothering to turn around, but maybe he should have because as soon as he was on his feet, Jacob had jumped onto his back. "Guess that answers that question!" he grunted as his wolfy lover leapt onto his back.

"Mush, Edward! Onward! Forward! Excelsior!" Jacob cried, wrapping an arm around Edward's shoulders as he pointed to the water with the other.

"Jacob!" Edward rolled his amber eyes, but he couldn't stop a smile from twitching across his smooth face.

"Oooh, carry me too!" Alice pleaded, then before Bella even had time to blink, Alice was suddenly perched upon her back. It was a good thing Alice was so tiny. Even someone as unathletic as Bella could carry her around quite easily.

So the two happy couples joined their many friends in the water while Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme remained behind on the sandy shore. Carlisle and Esme watched with matching smiles as two more of their clan finally found their significant others and even Rosalie, cold and apathetic and annoyed as she was, couldn't help but genuinely smile at the scene unfolding before her. She may not have approved of Alice and Edward, or of the people they'd chosen to be with (seriously, a human and a werewolf. Could it have been any worse?), but she had to admit that they were all very cute. In fact, as she continued to watch them splash around with each other, she whipped out her phone and quickly snapped a photo, adding a rainbow filter to it. Then she got off her fancy little chair and joined them in for the swim.

 **AN: This is an Eclipse AU where, following the end of New Moon, Alice and Bella begin to realize their feelings for each other, but Bella stays with Edward for a bit longer, leading to repeated Edward v. Jacob matches until Bella finally just breaks it off with both of them and runs to Alice. This leaves Edward and Jacob despondent because they have no excuse to see each other anymore and that makes them realize that maybe their loathing was actually loving and their fights over Bella were only ever done in attempt to impress the other and because Foe-Yay is a thing, so they become a couple too. Also, yes, this means that Alice isn't married to Jasper.**

 **Also, of course, in this moment, Jacob has given the Cullens his blessing to spend this one day at the beach with him, hence why none of the wolves are complaining about the vampires being on their territory.**


	14. Day 14: Storm

**AN: Heads-up, this is very similar to Chap 3, so feel free to skip if you don't want more angsty musing about "God and the Gays". But if you DO want to read a shorter version of Cora's story (compared with the analogy of a storm) please read on. I personally think this version is better because it's shorter, cleaner and more concise and because it follows a forward progression (a storm) it's more directional and has a happier, clearer ending.**

 **Just like before, though, read with caution and discretion, and please know that my inbox is always open if anyone wants a listening ear.**

Lydia Silvers stared out her bedroom window. The sky was eerily dark and there was something heavy in the air. She didn't have to be a meteorologist to know that a storm was coming. There was just something about the way everything looked, felt and smelled right before a storm that gave it all away. No matter how quickly or quietly the clouds crept up, she could always tell when something terrible was about to be let loose. There was just something in the air... Sometimes so unnamable yet so unmistakable. Something so thick and threatening. Something looming very near... A storm was coming... And it reminded the teenager of her own inner turmoil.

It was an inner storm, perfectly mirroring the one about to begin right outside of her home. The only difference was that the fallout of her internal storm would go unnoticed, while at least the storm outside would leave visible damage that would bring people to believe that the storm had indeed happened. But when it came to internal storms, those were far trickier. Even if the thunder and lightning were deafening and blinding within the mind of the person suffering through the storm, because no visible fallout was ever left behind, those were the storms that were ignored and disbelieved the most often, even though they could be most destructive and tumultuous in the long run.

 _CRASH!_ the first roll of thunder echoed across the sky, loud and sudden, but Lydia didn't even flinch. Although that roll of thunder had been impossible to see coming, Lydia had still known it was going to happen long enough so that when it did finally happen, it didn't scare her. It had never been a matter of 'if'. It had been a matter of 'when' and now it seemed that 'when' was now.

After that initial rumble, many more followed suit, and lightning and rain accompanied it, all three of them getting harder, faster and stronger as the time ticked onward. Lydia could only stare unseeingly out her bedroom window at the monstrous tempest going on mere feet away from her. As frightening as it might have been to some, it did nothing to Lydia and she continued to stare at it unseeingly. Perhaps it was because she felt some kind of strange connection to the terrible weather. Lydia had never been into philosophy, but every once in awhile, some poetic and philosophic comparison would come to her and, much like the rain outside, it often came pouring out with no inhibitions.

Lydia's life had never been that good, but it felt like ever since she'd turned 16, things had taken a turn for the worst, but it was all internal. Unlike the storm outside, the pain Lydia suffered was entirely invisible and inaudible, but it took a course very similar to that of a storm. It all began on a sunny day, there were rainbows in the sky. The whole issue of gay marriage had sprung up across the country and although Lydia once stood devoutly on the side of legalizing gay marriage, one particular remark from a stranger off the street shook Lydia's certainty and even though it was a small remark and a small moment of weakness on Lydia's part, it would accumulate into something far bigger and more vicious. It was literally the straw that broke the camel's back, the first tiny drop of rain to signal an oncoming monsoon.

"God hates fags!" the stranger had declared, he and his friends screaming against Lydia and several of her neighbors. They had all been standing outside the office of their senator, half the crowd clamoring for the legalization of gay marriage while the other half condemned it. Since both parties were screaming, however, it was next to impossible to hear any particular word or phrase from anyone. At least not until that man spoke. It had been a small, short phrase, only three words long, but Lydia heard it above all the others and even though she initially dismissed it, it stuck with her more fiercely than she could've ever imagined.

"You're nuts!" she had screamed back at the man, but by then, he was already gone, lost in the commotion again, and it didn't take Lydia more than five seconds to forget all about it and continue screaming out amongst the 100 others with her, all of their voices colliding like thunder and creating a deafening roar so loud that no words could be gleaned from it, just raw and unbound anger. The senator sat inside of his office, totally at a loss for words, as the world around him crashed and roared and boomed with all the mighty destruction of a hurricane.

Then, only a few hours later, Lydia found herself singing in an entirely different key, wondering if maybe that stranger hadn't been so wrong after all… You see, Lydia had never been very religious, but what little she did know always indicated a loving and forgiving God. It was part of the reason she'd joined WITH the LGBT community in the first place. The way she saw it, a loving God would've been very pro-gay, but according to that man, not only did God hate, but he hated gay people. Lydia did a bit of research and it didn't take her long to figure out how that man could've come to such a seemingly-ludicrous statement. All across the internet were verses condemning homosexual activity and all across the internet were websites talking about God's wrath and his judgment against the unrepentant sinner. She found all kinds of information about sin and Hell and how one got to Heaven. It overturned her entire world in the span of one simple evening over a small pizza dinner.

It was then that the dark clouds began creeping in. Without even realizing it, Lydia's own storm was brewing on the horizon. That man's simple, three-word maxim had been the first cloud, the first electric tingle, the first raindrop, and everything else that followed would only be the typical accumulation of energy and anger. Without even realizing it, Lydia's sunny day had accumulated its first gray storm clouds.

She continued to research religion, morality, life, duty, homosexuality, and science and how they intertwined with each other. The clouds continued to brew overhead, but her nose had been stuck to her laptop, she had no way of seeing it. It wasn't until the first few distant rumbles, the first few raindrops, that Lydia began to realize something. She was believing every word the religious zealots were saying. As insane as they had seemed to her before, the longer she spent trying to understand their ways, the more she began to see exactly where they were coming from. That was not a good thing. On the contrary, it gave validity to the idea that queer people would burn forever not because they were queer, but because they were unrepentant. Not a single queer person Lydia knew was making any attempt to (literally) straighten themselves out and that, according to the Bible, was unrepentant sin. Everyone knew where that led a person. So even if homosexuality wasn't the problem, the stubbornness of homosexual people was, according to what Lydia was reading and thinking about.

Suddenly, it began to rain. Lydia began to worry about her immortal soul. She began to wonder if living a celibate life wouldn't be such a bad thing after all if it kept her away from eternal suffering. She may not have been very religious, but what if she was wrong? What if there was a God after all? Wasn't it better to believe and be wrong than to disbelieve and be wrong? It was Pascal's Wager and she was starting to think it was a pretty good one. Better safe than sorry. She had no way of knowing anyway, so shouldn't she take the high road just to be safe?

But Hell was promised to be a place of weeping and gnashing of teeth. Wasn't that what Lydia was doing already? God's salvation clearly wasn't working. If it were, she wouldn't have felt this way. She would've felt his peace and courage flowing through her. But at the moment, she felt anything but. It was rather backward, given all that Lydia was learning about...

The rain continued to pour and Lydia continued to research. She listened to every side of the argument and rationalized with herself, trying to find the side that made the most sense to her. Unfortunately, it was the side most detrimental to her health that she agreed with the most. For some reason, the logic of the religious zealots made more sense to her than anything else.

Finally, it began to thunder. Lydia felt some real fear for herself, and for her friends. She felt bad about being gay and she felt bad about not doing anything about it. She began to wonder if she ought to check out some of those "Gay to Straight" camps and programs. Maybe there was no set-in-stone cure for homosexuality, but who was to say it would be impossible to find one? Lydia began to research ways to be straight. She was trying to get rid of her homosexuality. But then it became a vicious cycle. The more she tried to fix herself, the more broken she became. The more she tried to be straight, the more time she spent thinking about homosexuality. It was like picking at a scab to make it go away. Instead of leaving it alone, by worrying it to death, she was only making it worse. The thunder got louder and the rain became painful.

Then the lightning began. It was resentment. Fear had turned into grief and guilt which finally turned into anger when there was no result in Lydia's conversion from gay to straight. She became bitter and resentful of everything. She cursed God for making her gay, she cursed herself for not doing anything about it, she cursed the religious for opening her eyes to this issue and then she cursed the secular for not warning her ahead of time. As paradoxical and contradictory as all of this was, Lydia was mad at being gay and being not-gay. She was just as ashamed of her homosexuality as she was of the fact that she was trying to be straight. No matter how dark and cold things got outside, there was a tiny part of Lydia that prided her queerness and the thought of having to give it up seemed impossible. Even when it seemed like a small price to pay to ease her mind, Lydia could never, in good conscience, truly forsake her identity as lesbian. It was just who she was! She didn't want to have to deny it! But according to everything she'd looked at so far, she kind of had to… But that wasn't fair! But then again, nothing ever was.

The storm was going full speed ahead, both in Lydia's head and outside of her house. Just like the tempest lashing at the windows of her abode, the storm going on within her mind was lashing out at her. It ate away at her mind and body. She'd been sleeping too much and eating too little, but the anxiety was real. Although she had yet to suffer a real attack, the queasiness and despair she felt should've been enough of an indicator that something was wrong. She couldn't take pleasure in the same things she used to. Instead, they only brought on more fear and guilt that she shouldn't be wasting time with idle pleasures. Her quest for the truth was a 24/7 operation and any hindrance was wrong. It was an all-consuming obsession that she couldn't break out of. No matter where she went or what she did, the worries would be close behind, chiding her and demanding that she get back to work trying to fix herself and find the truth. She literally could not get her head out of this gutter.

She only felt relieved that she had never once considered self-harm, drugs or suicide. Maybe she'd thought about them and wondered if they wouldn't be the easier solution, but she had yet to actually grab a knife, a pill, a bottle or a noose. It broke her heart, though, to think that there were people out there who hadn't been as lucky. The rain splattered across the window. Lydia was crying (yet again). She was crying for herself and all those who'd lost their lives in the struggle to accept their identity, whether that was queer or 'queer and trying to be straight' because people like that did exist, and they needed all the support they could get. Lydia understood the struggle and temptation on both sides, like the thunder and lightning, and her heart broke for both sides. It felt like a lose-lose battle, with innocents and victims on both sides. But who was right?

It seemed like, no matter where she went, hatred, fear, sorrow and anger would be there too. Whether it was a church or a Pride Parade, there was discontent in the air. Sure, it might've been hidden under layers of vim and verve, but there was always an underlying line of discontent, like the electricity in the air before a storm, even if the clouds hadn't rolled in yet. But now the clouds were here. And so was all the thunder and lightning and rain, obscuring eyes and ears from seeing or hearing any chance at relief or hope. The storm was violent and scary. Both of them. They were blinding and no progress was made in either direction from anyone. All any of them could do was sit there and suffer against the lashing winds and the icy rains and the roaring thunder.

So that was why Lydia was staring blankly up at the black sky that occasionally laced with a blinding hot flash of light. It felt very much like her own internal storm: dark and rumbling, the occasional searing anger or anxiety mixing with the overall endless gloom and tears of the rain. It was a cold and wet world to live in, but it was her own and since it was all happening within her very being, there was no house to take shelter in. The storm was happening inside of her very mind. There was no escape from that the way there was from the storm going on outside. The rain was soaking the ground. The thunder was roaring and growling back and forth. The lightning continued to crackle and hiss across the sky at random.

Why, oh why, did she have to be born gay? Why couldn't she have been born straight? Even if there really was nothing wrong with homosexuality, life would've been way easier for her if she'd been born straight. She would be in way less pain and confusion and things would be so much easier and simpler. There would be no question as to who she was or whether or not that was ok. She would like boys and not girls and everything would be the way it should've been. Right? But she had been born gay and that didn't look like it was going to change any time soon and boy was she tired of fighting it.

But that tiredness actually became the thing that gave Lydia new energy. When the storm of her self-doubt and anxiety finally took enough energy and emotion from her, Lydia became totally empty. She was all dried out. There was nothing left for hatred and fear to feed upon. It had used up all of her fuel. Now she was at rock bottom, but when you were that low, there was only one way left for you to go: up. There was only so much suffering a human could take before something had to change, and for Lydia, it was finally a good one. Her mind just got tired of worrying day in and day out and all of the fear and anger slowly, slowly began to go away.

Without even meaning to, Lydia's internal storm dissipated. With nothing left to feed on, the fear went away. With no more emotions or tears left to cry out with, Lydia was able to calm down long enough to find her balance again. She was finally able to see clearly. With no more energy to spend on panicking, she was finally able to calm down. With no more negative emotions to drag her down, she could finally start looking up. In the same way that even the most violent of storms could not last, nor could Lydia's own inner turmoil. Now, without even meaning to or realizing it, it seemed that both the storms inside and out were slowly misting away into nothingness. Little by little, the storm went away. The lightning came less and less, the thunder was softer and softer and the rain became slower and slower. Soon, the lightning was only a dim single streak. The thunder was only a soft growl every once in awhile. The rain was only a pitter-patter, turning slowly into mist.

Lydia's fears finally melted away, her anger soothed and her tears stopped coming. The churning in her stomach lessened, the constant fear she felt no longer plagued her. The shame and guilt she felt for being gay turned into simple and plain acceptance that it wouldn't change. She'd tried, but it wasn't going anywhere. She was lesbian and that was that. She didn't give a damn anymore about what any god thought because not a single one ever bothered to come down and help her. If she was going to Hell, she might as well go unregretful. She doubted salvation was possible for someone like her anyway. Hadn't she tried already? And yet still no change or holy peace from God. Clearly, she was a lost cause.

Well, she wasn't going to waste anymore time or tears on a lost cause. Screw that! She really didn't care anymore. She was spent. She'd done her best and it wasn't enough, so she was done. Let God fix her if he wanted to, or he could keep ignoring her like always. But she was done trying to straighten herself out. All it had done was make her ask whether or not she should kill herself. She didn't want to walk that road anymore. She had paid her dues, now it was time for the world to either pay her in return, or she would start forging her own path, debt-free.

Finally, the storm ended entirely. The sky was still overcast, a uniformed gray that seemed endless, but the chaos of the storm was past. The ground was still soaked and Lydia briefly wondered if there had been any trees knocked over during the gale and the lightning, but everything else was over and done with. It was quiet again. There was neither sun nor rainbow in the sky, but there was no more lightning either. Lydia had been feeling more and more like this with every passing day. After about a year (only a year?!) of worrying about her sexuality and her soul, the worry had finally taken so much from the young girl that there was nothing left but emptiness. It was a blank slate, a fresh start, a chance to grow back bigger and stronger than before like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

After wearing Lydia down so much, the depression and anxiety of the past year had finally settled and left Lydia with a blank canvas. It would be a long and painful rebuild, littered with back-sliding and regrets, but the storm was over. Just like the gray sky overhead, Lydia felt empty and blank, completely spent from all of the time she lost worrying and crying. She could see nothing but a heavy gray that stretched out in all directions for ever. Nothing new or bright or colorful, but nothing violent and dark either. Just a heavy, moist and humid atmosphere left in the wake of what had once been a chilling and deadly phenomenon. The storm was finally over, but now the recovery process needed to begin.

 _Rain came pouring down, when I was drowning that's when I could finally breathe. And by morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean..._ -Taylor Swift

 **AN: Again, I know this may seem redundant compared to Chap 3, but I really do think this story captures a different angle to the same issue. Unlike Cora's story, this one has a more hopeful and clear ending, and again, because it follows the forward progression of a storm, it has more of a plot instead of just being a rambling analysis. And TBH, this is honestly how my struggle went: the first spark, concern, fear, anxiety, panic, sadness, despair, defeat, anger, resentment, indignation, biterness... then emptiness and readiness for something new.**

 **Taylor Swift's song "Clean" really does fit this story (and my own personal one) perfectly, so I advise people in a similar situation to give it a listen.**


	15. Day 15: Someone Else

It wasn't rare for a demigod to wish that they were someone else. On the contrary, it was quite common. It probably stemmed from the fact that most demigods weren't exactly know for their long and happy lives. Actually, if anything, most demigods led very short, painful lives that often ended in horrible ways after an immense amount of trial and tribulation. So no, it was not uncommon at all for a demigod to wish that they were someone else. Nico di Angelo was no exception. He would've rather been anyone else other than the person that he was then. Why? Well, that was an impossibly and incredibly long list.

To start off, he was the son of the God of the Dead. Already, that was problematic on multiple levels. Most obviously, being the son of a Death God meant you got a bad rap from your father and pretty much everyone else hated or feared you by default. But come on! Nobody likes death! And having to say that your father is the Lord of the Underworld is never a fun admission and having the title 'Ghost King' doesn't exactly look good on a nametag… or a résumé… or pretty much anything else for that matter.

Secondly, along with having that negative rap, regardless of whether or not it was deserved, being the son of the God of the Dead meant that you also were naturally inclined to death yourself. All of your powers and aesthetic came from gloom and doom, not a pleasant sight for anyone except for the Hot Topic Goths and Emos. Regardless of your choices in life, you would forever gravitate to the darkness and death of things and that was never a very cheery subject matter and it certainly didn't make making new friends easy. And hey, while summoning up legions of the undead did have its perks, it wasn't exactly a very nice party trick and was useless at pretty much everything except scaring the living daylights out of anyone that crossed your path, though that could be fun sometimes. But it made it really hard to get anyone to trust you easily.

But, if having a father who controlled the dead, thereby granting you his reputation and ghostly power wasn't enough, you also weren't technically even supposed to be born and pretty much everything out there was out to send you back to your father the hard way because of how powerful and dangerous you were by default, regardless of whether or not you actually wanted any of it. Seriously, you might be the most peaceful and friendly guy out there, but whoomp! If you were related to Hades, you were automatically on everyone's hit-list.

And on top of that, being the son of Hades meant you were a demigod. Those 'perks' were listed above. So yeah, Nico had a lot of reasons to wish that he were someone else, but that didn't even go into the personals. First off, his mother had been killed when he was only a child (and by one of his psychotic Greek God uncles no less. Zeus to be exact). Then she got shoved into some weirdo casino where time stood still for about 60 years because Daddy Deadest couldn't exactly raise him safely. But then, within the first month of being released, he wound up losing the only other person he cared about (or who had cared for him) his older sister, Bianca, who had practically raised him in the absence of their parents. And Nico was doubly alone now because of that weird Time Casino. There literally was no one left alive under the age of like 90 who would've known him. He was ancient! (And by that, he meant that he was from the 1930s, not the BCs. He wasn't _that_ old. But compared to his modern, millennial peers, he was very out of touch with all of it). And on top of all of that, he was forced to spend the rest of his time back in the "normal" world alone, running and hiding from Gods, monsters, prophecies and his own personal issues and demons. Poor guy could never catch a break!

But at this exact moment, all of that bitterness and pain was secondary to something else. Sure, Nico had a long and credible list of reasons why he wanted to be someone else, but in this particular moment, there was one reason that took the cake. He was gay. Perhaps that sounded silly to a person of this day and age, and perhaps it sounded silly in comparison to everything else that he was facing, but Nico had grown up in a very different time and place. It was a time and place that sincerely believed that there was something wrong (whether mentally or morally) with those who felt sexually and romantically attracted to those of the same gender. It was a time and place that wouldn't have accepted someone like him. It was a time and place that taught him to just lay low and run and hide, like always. And it was a belief so deeply engrained in society that even Nico held a shade of it, despite being gay himself and despite the belief being outdated.

But that was just it! Nico had not witnessed all of the social changes made in society. To him, the 40s were only yesterday. He'd lost decades of social progress in that blasted casino and had come out (pun NOT intended) of that casino just as quietly as he'd gone in. Because of that sudden transition between times, it hadn't been easy to suddenly start feeling his first attraction towards a fellow demigod (who ended up being the Savior of Olympus and was the Son of Poseidon no less), but no amount of thinking or praying or hiding or denying made the feeling go away. Nothing Nico did changed his fate, but that wasn't exactly new. Instead, Nico's hopeless crush only grew bigger and deeper and went from a simple hero-worship to the deepest desire to be with Percy in every sense of the word. Physically and sexually, sure, but also mentally and emotionally. He wanted to be the one Percy smiled at and kissed. He wanted to be the one Percy fought and came home for. He wanted to be the one to make Percy proud and to make him laugh. Envy wasn't a big enough word to describe the way Nico felt for Annabeth.

At the same time, though, Nico wasn't even sure of his crush on Percy! The odds were impossible, so why did he feel so strongly for the son of the Sea God? Or did he? Because every time Nico thought of Percy, a mix of loathing came in with the feeling of blushing school-boy adoration. It was an equal parts love-hate thing because of all the strife Percy had caused him (and he wasn't just referring to Percy being a straight and taken boy of the 2000s who was loved by pretty much everyone, though that was where part of Nico's envy and anger stemmed from). No, Percy had hurt Nico in more ways than he could count, yet there was a part of Nico that could never stay mad at Percy for long, and he absolutely hated that part of himself, but at the same time, it made him feel… good. It made him feel hopeful and heck, giddy, even! But it also terrified him. It shamed him. And he hated Percy for opening up that side of him! Except, he didn't… He hated himself more. But it was Percy's fault! But Percy was innocent and too kind and noble to stay mad at… But what chance did Nico have with someone as wonderful and perfect as Percy?

But even worse than that, not only was he 99.9% sure that Percy wasn't interested (being with Annabeth and all), but Nico still couldn't even bring himself to tell _anyone_ that he was gay! To be outed by Cupid, no matter how necessary, had been one of the worst moments in his life and that was saying a lot. It didn't matter if only one person had heard and it didn't matter if that one person had promised his understanding, there was just too much going on in Nico's head for anyone to truly understand. Forcing someone to come out was never ok, no matter who did it or how they did it. It didn't have to be forcible, the way Cupid had been. Even begging a person, on and off, to come out was not ok. It just so happened that the person who'd outed Nico had been incredibly pushy, but then again, that was Love for you.

Love was cruel, especially to those whom it enticed. Love was more than just a monster, it was a god all its own and, as any god, it demanded sacrifice. Love would have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood. But at the same time, it was so much more than being gay. It was so much more than a confession. There were so many layers to what he was going through that even HE didn't understand it, so how would the golden boy, the straight Son of Jupiter, possibly ever understand what Nico was going through?

It wasn't rare for a demigod to wish that they were someone else. On the contrary, it was quite common, and right now, Nico wished desperately that he could be someone else, anyone else, but no, he was still stuck as Nico di Angelo. Poor, little, pathetic Nico di Angelo, way in over his head and unloved by all and powerless to change his fate, but hey, what else was new? It was just another day in the life of a demigod.

 **AN: So, first things first, who would your Olympian parent be? I'm torn between Apollo, Athena and Aphrodite.**

 **For Apollo, I've got my love of music, writing and healing.**

 **For Athena, I've got wisdom and intelligence.**

 **For Aphrodite, I've got my deep interest in love and what it is, both literally and figuratively (I wouldn't be a sexy or flirty child of Aphrodite, but I would definitely spend all of my time musing about love. I mean, TBH, I kind of already do that anyway, so...)**

 **Second off, I threw a couple of Carmilla references in there because, if you think about it, Nico and Carmilla are pretty much the same. And it doesn't help that Will actually quite resembles Carmilla's girlfriend, Laura.**

 **(Nico and Carmilla are both broody gay emos with a dark aesthetic and a connection to the undead until their sunny, happy, blond, same-sex lovers with a bright aesthetic and connection to light and life cheer them up. Then they become slightly less broody but way more gay!)**

 **Third off, as you can see, this is just a "Emo-Nico broods about everything and is convinced that no one likes him" fic because that's pretty much all he does from "Battle of the Labyrinth" and onward (sorry, not sorry, LOL). I imagined it taking place right after the Cupid Confession, while he and Jason are shadow-traveling away, but honestly, this could be happening any time between then and when he came out to Percy.**

 **Also, I'm sorry if it wasn't very entertaining in the sense that it wasn't a real story so much as it was a reflection, but I had to say that it was more fun to write than expected. Besides, it keeps in the theme of someone being unable to accept their sexuality, which is part of Pride history and is something, even in this day and age, that is hard to do sometimes. I should know.**


	16. Day 16: A Little Bit Wrong

**AN: VERY DEPRESSING. SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING FOR A REFERENCE TO SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM AT THE VERY END. IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO, PM ME OR CALL THE SUICIDE HOTLINE: 1-800-273-8255**

Anya Wilde's lips curled up again in vague disgust and discontent.

"She," that was what he'd said. He'd called Anya 'she'. Although this was technically correct, it still felt a little bit wrong. Anya fought the urge to correct the boy because, in truth, Anya wasn't sure what pronouns should replace the female ones. Anya had mentally used male pronouns before, but those pronouns left the same sour taste as female ones did. Neither male nor female pronouns really worked, both of them feeling a little bit wrong even if they weren't. But what else was there? Anya supposed that gender neutral pronouns were worth a shot.

"Xe," Anya finally said.

"Pardon?" the boy asked.

"Xe," Anya repeated. "Gender neutral pronouns, please."

"Ah, of course," the boy promised he'd get it right next time. Then he walked off, already practicing the new pronouns. "Xe, xy, xem, xyr."

But even after the incident ended, the words continued to float around Anya's head.

"Xe, xy, xem, xyr," Anya practiced xyr own pronouns. Even those ones felt a little bit wrong, to be honest, but what else could xe use to describe xemself properly? If neither male nor female pronouns worked, what other option was there? Because that was the thing. With Anya, gender wasn't just one, isolated thing. They often came in groups or pairs and were seldom ever alone. Anya could feel multiple genders all at once, so one single gendered pronoun hardly felt appropriate, but at the same time, these neutral ones felt strange too. But there was no other option. There was no pronoun out there that explicitly described someone who felt a plethora of genders at various times. Dysphoria sucked. Even if it was only as simple as pronoun problems, it still really sucked and, not for the first time, did Anya wish that using female pronouns didn't feel as wrong and unfitting as it did. Life would be so much easier and a lot less complicated. If only Anya had the proper words to explain how xe felt!

ooo

Peter found himself unable to look in the mirror any longer because of how afraid he was of what would greet him if he did look. Once upon a time, it had all been so clear and simple and he knew exactly who he and the face in the mirror were. Now, he wasn't sure at all! The internal chaos and confusion was tearing him apart bit by bit and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to take it. When would he feel ok again? Would he ever feel ok again? Would anything ever make sense or feel right to him again? Or was he doomed to spend the rest of his life always feeling a little bit wrong? Was he doomed to spend his life feeling like he wasn't right or that he wasn't enough? That he was still too girly?

Peter tried his best to pass, wearing masculine outfits and even purchasing a new binder to hide his chest, but as good as they made him feel, he still wasn't entirely sure. As manly as some of his new wardrobe made him look and feel, there were still moments when Peter doubted his own masculinity and was locked in another battle between who he wanted to be and who he used to be. He was stuck in that awkward middle, too boyish to be anything else, too girlish to pass as anything else. How many times had he heard the whispers and gossip? Maybe they didn't think he was listening, but he most definitely was, and every single person who had the nerve to ask what his gender was or insist that he was just a girl in men's clothes was absolutely not helping at all. Instead, it only made him paranoid and anxious, constantly trying to look the part and fit in better. It felt like nothing he did was ever enough or correct. Like it was always all a little bit wrong.

"I am a man, I am a man, I AM A MAN!" Peter growled at himself, still avoiding that mirror. Why was this so hard to do? He knew he was male. He felt it deep inside. It wasn't just a phase or a superficial feeling, it was something so deep and integral to his core identity that he knew, without a doubt, he was a man. So why was that so hard to accept? And he wasn't even just referring to the people on the street. Why did _he_ have such a hard time accepting who he was? He dressed in ties and boxers now! His hair was short and he had a binder! So why were there still days when all he could see was a woman, staring back at him from the mirror? Why were there days when he doubted his masculinity? Why were there days when the world was able to force him to believe, even if only for one second, that he wasn't a man? Why did it feel a little bit wrong?

"I am a man, I am a man, I AM A MAN!" Peter repeated, this time angrier than before. But he was still unable to look into the mirror and all he could do was curse himself and the world that had made him the way it did. Why was it so hard for him to believe that he was male? Why did he still feel like he had so much left to prove before he could deserve that title of 'male'? Why did he feel like he had to try so hard to pass? Why did he have to feel like he owed the world proof that he was a man? Why couldn't everyone just accept him for him and shut up!? He couldn't wait for the day when he would stop feeling just a little bit wrong and start feeling totally right...

ooo

"I am not too young, Mama!" Ky bellowed. "I know I'm not a boy! I don't feel like one and all my friends say I don't act manly enough! Mama, please! I'm not a boy!" Ky continued to cry and try to get eir mother to see that ey was not a boy. Try as ey did, though, eir mother only ever dismissed eir concerns with a gentle laugh.

"Darling Ky, of course you are a boy! You are my handsome little son!" she was trying to reassure Ky, but it did the total opposite.

"Can't you just use the not-gender words? And do I have to be your son?" the little child pleaded.

"Dearest, I don't mind if you're trans, I just wish you knew that you're just too young to know yet," Ky's mother continued to plead gently. "You're still just a kid, give it time. There's no way you could be so certain at this age. And who knows? Maybe it'll all sort itself out! Maybe it's just a phase!" she really did love Ky, but her inability to understand Ky's true plight was not helping.

"I may be a kid, but I know it that I'm not a boy! I can feel it, somewhere even deeper than my heart! It just all feels a little bit wrong!" the child continued to plead with eir mother, listing all the times when ey felt more blank than boy, but Ky's mother only continued to brush him aside. She thought she knew so much more than Ky did and refused to see that maybe Ky was on to something after all.

"Listen to me, Ky, you are still young and are too young to know whether you're trans or not. I promise we can talk about this when you're older, but for now, you're just being silly!" Ky's mother's tone turned authoritative and Ky didn't need anything else to know that the talk was over. Ey sighed in defeat. Ey was willing to accept eir mother's wishes for now, but that didn't stop it all from feeling a little bit wrong. Ey weren't a boy and that was that. Ey might not have had the words to explain, but it was something ey knew was true!

"Yes, Mama," ey said, then ey scampered sadly away from her and into eir own room.

"I am not a boy, I am not a boy, I am not a boy!" Ky muttered into eir pillow, in defiance of the denying woman still down below. Ey then cried emself to sleep. It would be the first of many nights that Ky would do so, not understand why ey couldn't just feel like a boy when all his friends did. Why did that label, 'boy', always feel a little bit wrong? Ey was a boy, technically, so why didn't ey feel like one? Ey wished ey could find a friend that understood, but from the way things were looking, ey was entirely alone in eir predicament. The tears were eir only friends.

ooo

A nameless body, a nameless face, a nameless person, a nameless identity. All that existed now was anger, uncertainty and pain. Sure, there were good days and there were moments of genuine happiness. But there was also a lot of suffering to slog through first. More than ever before. There was a lot of doubt and expectation to overcome. They were tired of feeling this way. Tired of being a little bit wrong and out of place. They were tired of having a body that didn't match up with their mind. They were tired of feeling ugly and wrong and judged in the eyes of the world. They hated all the extra time and effort it took just to feel mildly ok. They hated all the stares and whispers, friendly or not. They hated all the media attention surrounding their identity. Most of all, they hated their own mind.

They hated the constant, irrational anger. They hated the bitterness and envy they felt at the rest of the world. They hated the endless grief and shame. They hated feeling guilty, like they'd failed the rest of the world just because they felt out of place. They hated knowing what a burden they were to society and their family. They hated the sadness and the tears. They hated having no one to talk to. They hated being alone. They hated being with others. They hated crying into their pillows at night. They hated punching the wall. They hated the emptiness that followed. They hated their own inability to feel anything. They hated mirrors and makeup. They hated binders and packers. They hated dresses and suits.

The despair and humiliation that swept over them threatened to drown them. The anger and discomfort and envy threatened to burn them down until not even the ashes remained. The desire to please everyone and find their voice was so scary it froze them into place. The judgment the world delivered made them run in an endless and fruitless quest to escape to a place of safety and peace. They just wanted to feel ok again. They wanted to feel like they fit. Their body felt too loose and too tight. It felt wrong and heavy and sticky. It didn't belong to them. They were _inside_ a body, but they were not _a_ body, if that made any sense. But then again, what did? It made no sense for a mind not to match a body, but here was the proof that it happened. Here was all the chaos and confusion, wrapped up in a body ravaged by carnage and abuse.

Sometimes it was bottles and sometimes it was needles. Sometimes it was knives and sometimes it was cigarettes. Sometimes it was red, sometimes it was black. Sometimes it was external self-harm, sometimes it was internal. Sometimes it was liquid, sometimes it was solid. All the time, it was unhappiness. It was dizziness, pain and confusion in a desperate attempt for peace and truth. They were literally unable to see the beauty in themself anymore, though it was not from a lack of trying. Instead, it was that ugly monster know as depression that made everything a little wrong, even when everything was perfectly alright. It made rooms a little too cold and empty even when they were bursting with light and life. It made things not quite perfect. It started with the little things and tore them down one by one until ruins and chaos remained.

"I hate this!" the nameless cried. "I hate everything! I hate how I feel, I hate how I am, I hate how I am not! I hate my life! I hate everything about me! I hate everything about this world! I hate everything! Everything is just a little bit wrong! Too much to ignore, but not enough to attend to!" they continued to raise their voice and fist to the sky, but the sky didn't even notice. The clouds continued to pass, the sun continued to shine, the birds continued to sing. The only thing left frozen in place was the nameless person, mad with fury that it was only able to scream into a world that couldn't understand its frequency.

Finally, though, silence settled over the world again. The nameless had finally stopped screaming. They'd finally stopped breathing. They'd finally stopped living. The depression and dysphoria were gone and everything was perfectly alright again. Except it wasn't. Because, within this new silence, you can hear that gentle drip of something or other, or the creaking of rafter timbers. You can hear a bottle, plastic or glass, rolling across the floor for a split second before it finally stops and settles down as well. Something smells funny, metallic and heavy. There's a thin line of smoke wafting through the air. Everything is quiet now, sure, but something is just a little bit wrong.

 **AN: SUICIDE HOTLINE: 1-800-273-8255**

 **Sorry this was so depressing, but it had to be written. Like I said, Pride Month isn't just happiness and rainbows. There's a lot of shame and despair in our history as well. If anyone wants to talk, no matter what they want to talk about, my inbox is always open.**


	17. Day 17: Feeding Time

Day One: Amelia watched the Babadook scamper back to its corner, dragging the little bowl of worms with it in defeat. Her heart was still beating wildly as she struggled to recover from its most recent attempt on her life. True, it hadn't been able to do much before she was able to subdue it, but it still had been a frightening few seconds. Just for an instant, its massive figure and horrific face had risen up against her again, leering down at her with arms and mouth open wide. It didn't matter if she knew how to defeat it, whenever it did rear its ugly head, she would always get a little bit scared. But now the danger was over again, it was curled away in its corner in defeat, sulking at its pitiful meal.

"There now, Mr. Babadook, you aren't so scary at all!" she murmured, both to herself and to the Babadook itself. This was only a half-truth, but it gave Amelia the courage to wait until the Babadook had finished its meal before she ran away. These words, though only half-truths, kept her grounded in reality and helped her stand her ground against the terrifying monstrosity that knelt down before her. Once it was done eating, it shoved its empty bowl back at her.

"Thank you," she told it serenely before daring to turn around and walk away from the monster, bowl in hand and smile on her face. The Babadook could only watch bitterly as she left it alone in its new home, its prison.

Day Two-Six: Feeding time came again and, like the previous days, the Babadook made an attempt against Amelia. It rose up and snarled, but she was quicker with her response every time. Although her heart still pounded, she still raised her arms up at the Babadook and whispered.

"Shh, shh, it's ok! It's ok," she promised and it was forced to retreat again, whimpering into its little corner as Amelia slid the bowl of worms over to it. She tried to smile as she watched it eat. When the meal was over, it slid the bowl back over to her, growling.

"Thank you," Amelia told it again, then she took the bowl upstairs without another look back and the Babadook could only watch.

Day Seven: Amelia took an exceptionally large bowl of worms down to the Babadook that day, feeling uncharacteristically generous. She smiled and hummed gently to herself as she opened the door to the basement and walked down the stairs inside. The Babadook attacked almost at once, finally actively lunging at her instead of just growling or trying to intimidate her. It physically lashed out at her, knocking her down and sending the worms to the floor. Amelia yelped in fear and pain as she hit the ground, some of the worms squishing beneath her as she fell. The Babadook roared in reply and continued to ravish Amelia. For a moment, the lady could only lie there in terror and pain, curled up in fetal position and trying to protect her head as the monster fought hard to get back in.

"You can't let it in!" Amelia heard her son's voice echo in her head. The memory replayed several times before the message finally resonated enough with Amelia to remind herself what she had to do.

"It's ok!" she cried, removing her arms from her head and throwing them up at the hungry, angry Babadook. It was a vulnerable position to take, but it was what she had to do because the longer she tried to resist physically, the closer the Babadook would come to winning. She had to deny her instincts, lift up her walls, and be vulnerable, no matter how badly the idea scared her.

"It's ok!" she repeated, still waving her arms frantically. "It's alright! Shhh, calm down! Shh!" Amelia continued to soothe the creature and, slowly but surely, it backed away. The blows became less frequent until they had stopped entirely. Amelia was able to sit up, a bit bruised and bloody but not at all in any critical condition. The Babadook was now standing several feet away, a look of pure _hatred_ on its face. It was enough to chill Amelia to the bone, but when she heard her son's voice in her head again, she shook off her fears and stood up.

"Shhh, shh, shhh," she told the Babadook, arms out. The monster continued to retreat angrily from her. Once it was curled all the way back up in the corner, Amelia salvaged as many worms as she could, then feeding time commenced as normal, the only difference being that part of Amelia's dress was stained with worms. But that was ok, it would wash out easily enough.

"Thank you," she told it, then she took the empty bowl and left, the Babadook still growling behind her.

Day Eight-Fifteen: For another week, feeding time went along peacefully. The attacks were not nearly as bad as Day Seven. In fact, as the days passed, the Babadook got less and less aggressive. By Day Ten, when Amelia brought it the bowl of worms, it was nowhere to be seen. Oh, she knew it was still there because she could feel its presence and she already knew that, once the Babadook came to you, it would never leave, but it didn't even bother trying to scare her. Instead, she could hear it chittering to itself in the basement's corner, mumbling unhappily over its fate.

"There, there, now, dear, it's ok," Amelia whispered as she slid the little bowl over to it. Once again, she had overfilled the bowl. The Babadook took its meal, however reluctant, and slurped it all down until nothing remained. Amelia smiled pleasantly.

"Thank you," she told it. Only silence followed her back out into the warm daylight.

Day Sixteen: Feeding time this day was slightly more aggressive than it had been before. Amelia walked down the stairs, bowl in hand, and was met with… her husband. He sat there in the corner, a calm and pleasant smile on his face.

"Hello, darling," he said. Amelia took a step back.

"You?" she demanded. Her husband only smiled back and nodded, but Amelia shook her head. "No. Not you. As much as I wish it were, you're dead, and I know you wouldn't really want this kind of life for me…" she was, of course, referring to the depressive state she'd spent the past six years in. If this creature here and now really was her husband, it wouldn't show itself and torment her like this because it would want her to move on. But since this figure was appearing to her as her husband, she knew at once that it was only the Babadook.

"Even if it is not me," Amelia's husband continued, voice no longer his own now that the jig was up, " _I_ am still here and it is still all your fault. If you hadn't distracted your husband while he was driving you to the hospital, he might still be alive and the boy might've had a proper parent in his life, a father figure, someone that would've raised him right. Face it, you've damaged yourself, your husband and your son all on your own, even before I cam here. All of this is your fault."

The Babadook continued to torment Amelia in this fashion until it had brought the woman down to her knees. The bowl of worms slipped quietly from her hand and she began to weep as what the Babadook said slowly took over her mind. All the bitterness, fear and guilt resurfaced and Amelia realized that she was the only one to blame for all of it. The Babadook, still wearing Amelia's husband's face, grinned horribly as it drew ever closer to the weeping woman. Its disguise slowly melted away and it reached a spindly hand out. That hand touched Amelia's shoulder.

"NO!" on reflex, the moment Amelia felt the Babadook touch her, she recoiled. "Maybe you're right!" she acknowledged. "Maybe all of this is my fault. Maybe I am the only one to blame for my own depression, Oskar's death and Samuel's twisted upbringing, but no amount of reminders is going to fix or change any of that! No amount of self-loathing is going to bring anything back! All it's going to do is distract me from the one thing that will help: trying to be a better woman! That's right! Trying to be the woman I should've been years ago is all that will work because it'll affect the future and that's all I have left! So go ahead, say want you want, blame me for every little last thing that went wrong in this house! At the end of the day, it doesn't matter because it won't change anything!"

The woman was shouting now, rising slowly from her position on the floor and picking up the bowl of worms too. The Babadook could only watch in fear and awe as this weak woman not only stood up after it touched her, but that she would still have the guts to tell it off. It cowered miserably, the last of its disguise melting away.

"Only _this_ will change anything!" she shouted, waving the bowl of worms angrily before she knelt down to slide it over to the Babadook. Then she stood back up, proud and tall, crossing her arms over her chest. For a moment, nothing happened, but then there was an unwilling slurping that pervaded the air. The next sound to follow the slurping was a scraping at the empty bowl was slid back over to Amelia.

"Thank you," she told the Babadook with an icy glare before bending over to pick up the bowl. She thought she saw the Babadook's twitching shadow, but she paid it no mind as she left the basement without another look back.

Day Seventeen-Twenty: Feeding time had returned to its normal exchange. The Babadook made no attempt on Amelia that day and instead, it took the less-than-full bowl of worms and ate up.

"Thank you," Amelia told it as she picked up the spotless bowl and walked away.

Day Twenty One: The Babadook tried to attack Amelia again. It lunged at her, biting and clawing. Amelia collapsed in terror and agony as she felt its sharp little teeth digging into her skin.

"Get off me!" she screamed. The Babadook obliged. It made a run for the door, gliding swiftly over Amelia and to the steps. When Amelia rolled over to see it trying to escape, she gave another scream, but this time it was of anger instead of fear. She hopped up at once, sprinting after the evil demon. She physically tackled it, slamming it down against the steps right before it could reach the door.

"Absolutely not!" she snarled at it, then she forcefully threw it back down the stairs. She gave it a firm tongue-lashing. It wasn't a cruel, angry or overly-frightened speech, but it still managed to bring in an element of anger, disapproval, fear and a promise of retribution should the Babadook make any attempt like that again.

"I know you want to leave," Amelia told the creature. "But you are not allowed to. You must stay here! And if you do try to leave again, I will not be happy," she told it. Maybe it seemed silly to be talking to a massive monster the way she would talk to her son, but it worked and the Babadook only growled before returning to its corner. The bowl of worms had been overturned so Amelia carefully salvaged what worms survived before sliding the bowl over to the Babadook. It ate.

"Thank you," she told it, then she left the basement, locking the door behind her.

Day Twenty Two-Twenty Five: Like before, feeding time passed peacefully. The Babadook continued to growl and watch Amelia with beady, angry eyes, but it didn't make any movement against her.

"Thank you," she told it each and every day after feeding time was over. Then she would take the bowl, walk away and shut the door.

Day Twenty Six: A third physical attack was in store for Amelia, but this time, the Babadook made no attempt to escape. Instead, it only rushed at Amelia and pushed her over. It waited for her to stand up before rushing at her again and throwing her back to the floor. This game of throwing Amelia to the ground repeatedly continued for about five more rounds before a very-bruised Amelia finally spoke up.

"See here! Maybe you think you're tough, only attacking me when I stand so you can just bring me down again, but I tell you that it is a very cowardly and ineffective tactic because I don't plan on staying down!" she stood up as she said this, bowl of worms still tightly in her grasp. She braced herself for the next attack, but it didn't come. She could see the Babadook staring hungrily at her, clearly wishing that it could hurt her.

"Now, that's not very nice of you," she reminded the creature. "Come on, let us all just get along. I understand that you are hungry, but that's what _these_ are for!" she waved the bowl of worms. "I understand that you scare me only because it's what you do, but that simply cannot continue! I know you are only scared like me. We can be friends! Just trust me. Here you go," Amelia offered the creature the bowl of worms. It ate.

"Thank you," she smiled at it as it slid the bowl back over to her.

Day Twenty Seven-Twenty Nine: These next few days were still rife with attacks, but they were not physical. Instead, on those days, during feeding time, the Babadook would continue to taunt Amelia in the forms of old friends and family. It would whisper horrible and cruel things to her, casting doubt, fear and blame upon her shoulders until the weight became crushing.

"Your fault."

"Your failure."

"You killed your husband."

"You tortured your son."

"You have failed as a wife and mother."

"Kill yourself, surrender yourself. Make it easier on everyone!"

"Bring me your life. Bring me the boy."

These were the things the Babadook told Amelia in a chorus of different voices and faces, whispering and cooing as it broke her down from the inside out instead of the outside in. Amelia shook her head, trying to silence the condemning voices, but sometimes, the voices were just a bit too loud and Amelia would find herself wondering, long after feeding time was over, whether or not the Babadook was right. Maybe it would be easier just to end herself now. If the Babadook would never truly go away, what was the point of trying? The worms were idle substance for a hunger far deeper and stronger. How long before it tried to destroy her life again? It had only been a month after all! Would she be strong enough to survive a second attack? And Amelia was pretty sure there would be a second attack. After all, she had years left on her life. That was a lot of days and months to survive with the Babadook living right under the floorboards.

But at the same time, Amelia just couldn't give up now. Although she still had a long way to go, she'd still come very far. It would be a shame to throw in the towel now. Besides, she was doing far better than she had been in a very long time. She didn't want to surrender just yet because she'd barely even tasted the triumph and joy life had to offer her. So no. She wasn't going to end it all now. No matter how many times the Babadook would ask, demand or suggest, it was too soon for Amelia to go. She would just block out its incessant pleads with her and continue to live. She had a lot left to do before she passed.

"Thank you," Amelia told the monster calmly as it finished its worms. She had filled it past the brim again, but the amount of worms had nothing to do with how full it felt. Whether Amelia only filled the bowl halfway or left it spilling over changed nothing for the Babadook. Instead, its volatile and unpredictable temper became the norm and it could only growl up angrily as Amelia left the basement with the empty bowl.

Day Thirty: Amelia took a deep breath before heading downstairs for her 30th feeding time. The bowl was filled just right today and Amelia felt good, but how she felt was not at all an indicator of how the Babadook would react to seeing her. Sometimes, it was quiet, other times it was angry. Sometimes it tried to scare her, sometimes it tried to hurt her, sometimes it only stared, sometimes it didn't even show its face at all. It didn't matter whether or not her day had been good, bad, both or neither. Amelia could never tell what it would be that day until she got down there and dared to face it head on. It was a tiring battle, but one that she had to fight every day of her life for her life. She had resigned herself to that fate. Besides, as tiring as it was, it was preferable to allowing the creature to escape and roam loose around the house. This feeding time ritual at least ensued that Amelia knew where the Babadook was at all times.

And honestly, strange as it sounded, with every feeding time, Amelia felt a little more bonded to the Babadook. That wasn't to say that she liked or trusted it, but somehow, by acknowledging its presence within her life and going to care for it made it easier to bear. Perhaps it was because this boosted her confidence or perhaps it was because it put her in a position of power over the Babadook or perhaps it was because, by having to play this almost-nurturing role to the fiend, it was allowing her to see it in a new way. Instead of seeing it as a monster to be killed, because you could never get rid of the Babadook, she was now seeing it as something to be cared for. In the same way a child could turn out good because you raised him right, so too could something even as monstrous as a Babadook.

Either way, no matter what the true truth was, Amelia knew that feeding time had become part of her daily routine and it felt wrong to not do it. Feeding time had become therapeutic and releasing instead of frightening. Sure, it was still scary and there was still always the risk that the Babadook might one day overpower her, but at the same time, feeding time was not nearly that bad. It gave Amelia a sense of peace and power to be looking after the Babadook like this. She never thought she would consider it a friend, pet or companion, but at least she would acknowledge its existence and start treating it as an equal instead of something impossible to beat or something to just be shoved away and forgotten and ignored. So what if she couldn't ever truly destroy it? She knew how to handle it and that was the next best thing. So what if it would haunt her for the rest of her life? She had it under control. The key to defeating it had been simple: acknowledgement and acceptance. She had both of those now and they were things she didn't ever intend upon losing again. So here went nothing! The Babadook was scary, yes, but she was brave.

Amelia pushed open the basement door, took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs, bowl in her hand. It was feeding time and the Babadook was waiting, hungry.

 **AN: I wrote this fic for 2 reasons. 1, because of the Gay Babadook joke. 2, even though there technically is no queer themes in the movie, it still has a very powerful and moving message.**

 **I didn't personally care for the film, but I will admit that it was a work of art. For once, it didn't water down the darker side of parenting (usually horror films like this make the child an innocent angel, but this movie had the courage to keep the kid as a whiny little brat. Maybe it was annoying, but it was realistic, especially given the context of the story).**

 **Secondly, they wrote it such that the Babadook can never truly be defeated or destroyed, only coped with and looked after. I think that was a brilliant and beautiful decision, especially if one sees it as a metaphor for depression. Depression isn't just conquered in one epic battle, it takes time and devotion. And even then it may never truly go away forever.**

 **This fic was meant to be equal parts sad and uplifting, with the Babadook as persistent and unpredictable as depression, yet still beatable by acceptance and acknowledgement. Amelia's steadfastness to feeding times and the worms symbolize that. She feeds it because she knows she must in the same way we must also feed our feelings and fears instead of trying to starve them until they rise up against us. She learns to acknowledge and care for the Babadook as people must acknowledge and care for themselves and their depression instead of trying to suppress or kill it.**

 **IDK, maybe I'm reading too much into this, but Babadook was one heck of a film and was just so gritty and realistic that even though I didn't particularly care for it, I'd still give it five stars.**


	18. Day 18: Platonic Friends

"So, how long have you two been together?" the teacher asked interestedly.

"Together?" Iris repeated in confusion. "You mean like, how long we've known each other?"

"Yeah. How long have you two been dating?" the teacher clarified.

"Oh!" Iris understood at once and began to laugh. "Oh, no, no. Clover and I never dated. We're platonic friends!"

Iris continued to explain her bond with Clover to the curious lady, but as she went on, insisting that she and Clover weren't a romantic couple, the teacher scoffed.

"There's no need to be shy, dear," she said. "There's no need to lie or hide. You can tell me the truth! I'm pro-gay!"

"But I'm not lying!" Iris protested. "Clover and I aren't a couple. We're platonic friends!" Iris continued to try and get the teacher to see that she wasn't hiding or denying, but it didn't work. It felt like the longer Iris tried to get the teacher to believe her, the less the teacher cared to listen. "No. Can't be. It's totally fine if you want to be in the closet, but I mean, it's obvious you two are gay," the teacher said dismissively, actually waving Iris off about her own sexuality as though the teacher knew more about that topic than Iris did herself. It got deep under Iris' skin, but she could tell that this teacher had already come to her own conclusion about Iris' bond with Clover and no amount of facts or pleading would change that. The tiny brunette only sighed angrily before walking away.

Across the way, Clover was fighting a similar battle.

"So, how long have you and Iris known each other?" the person asked.

"Since we were five," Clover replied with a smile.

"Oh! Childhood friendship turned into adulthood romance. How cheesy, but how sweet!" xe declared.

"Oh, wait, hold up now," Clover raised a hand and gave her classmate a knowing smile. "Iris and I aren't in a romance."

"What?!" the student cried.

"I know, it does seem like we are girlfriends, but I assure you that we are just platonic friends. I mean, that doesn't diminish anything from our bond and that isn't meant to trivialize friendship or romance, but Iris and I just never saw each other in that way," said Clover.

"Nuh-uh!" Clover's companion protested. "I saw the way you guys looked at each other! The way you held hands! There's no way you guys are straight!" xe laughed at the very idea and Clover bit back a noise of irritation.

"Although you are right that neither of us are straight, you are wrong that we feel romantically for each other," she said. "Just because both Iris and I have the capacity to be attracted to other girls doesn't mean we're attracted to each other. You can have two female friends who only see each other as friends. Sex and romance is not the final destination for every same-sex duo!" the ginger continued to try and explain that, while saying Iris and Clover were lovers was a logical thing, it was still an incorrect thing and was a mistake that needed to be addressed and fixed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Clover's companion laughed her off. "Look. I'm genderqueer and my entire family falls somewhere within the LGBT Community. My gay-dar is on point and you two set it off almost as badly as those two dudes kissing in the hallway the other day."

"Ok, just because _you're_ queer doesn't mean you automatically know if anyone else is," Clover snapped. "And just because you think or decide that someone might be gay, doesn't mean they're actually gay. Being queer doesn't give you some special third eye that lets you see into the hearts of others. Though, if it did, I'd ask you to get your third eye a contact!" she finished, then before her companion could say more, she walked off.

Iris and Clover had been friends since childhood and both were extremely inclined to physical affection. Because of that, it was no surprise that half of the world thought they either had been, or currently were in, a romantic relationship. Iris and Clover actually found the notion quite cute, but after so many people kept coming up to them and asking them if it was true only to dismiss them if they said it wasn't, it was getting old. Seriously, they didn't mind being mistaken for a couple, they minded being intentionally considered a couple even after clearing up the mistake. It was like the world was trying to tell them that it didn't matter how they felt, it was how everyone else did. If they wanted Iris and Clover to be a thing, then Iris and Clover were a thing, regardless of how either Iris or Clover felt about the issue. If that wasn't blatant disrespect, then neither of them knew what was. It was just really arrogant and ignorant of people to act like they knew how Iris and Clover felt about each other.

The one thing that concerned them even more, though, beyond this personal level, was the societal implications of this constant mix up. There was nothing wrong with supporting same-sex couples. There was, however, something wrong with incessantly trying to turn platonic or heterosexual friendships with someone of the same sex romantic. It diminished the beauty and value of platonic friendship and implied that romance was everyone's end goal. It was wrong, rude, and actually quite exclusive. What if you were aromantic? What if you just genuinely saw that person in a platonic way? What if constantly hearing that you were in a relationship with someone you weren't ended up keeping you from ever actually finding a romantic partner because the rumors would say you were already taken?

It didn't just bother Iris and Clover on a personal level that this identity was being forced upon them, it bothered them because it showed how much work the world still had when it came to romance and platonic friendship. It showed how much work the world still had in respect, acceptance and tolerance. It showed that the world still could improve on how it viewed relationships and what it defined as an end goal. Because to Iris and Clover, although romance was nice, romance with each other was not. That special little spark had never come up between them and telling them constantly that they should be an item was kind of embarrassing and hurtful.

"Come on," Clover found Iris standing alone, frustrated, at the punch bowl. "This school dance ain't worth it."

"You can say that again," Iris agreed. She knew at once that Clover had just gone through the same crap she had from the way her eyes glittered angrily. The tiny brunette allowed the ginger to drag her out of the gym, out of the school, and back to the car.

"Wanna just go out to eat somewhere or take a walk in the park or go home?" Iris asked as Clover revved the engine.

"All three sound fine to me," Clover said. "Just as long as it ain't here!"

"Floor it," Iris agreed and Clover needed no further incentive than that to peel out of the lot as fast as she could. The few people that noticed the two leaving early sniggered behind their hands, knowing looks in their eyes. Or at least, the looks seemed knowing. In truth, they couldn't be more wrong or ignorant.

 **AN: Sorry for this sermon-esque story, but it was meant to be a critique on how society romanticizes everything and subconsciously devalues non-romantic relationships in the process. I specifically wrote Clover's character to be a foil for this "romanticizes everything" mentality that we have, so for that reason, you will never see me ship her with Iris. I agree they could be a great couple, but that literally goes against the point of Clover's character, so that ship will never sail, sorry to disappoint.**

 **(Similarly, this was actually based off a sort-of-real experience of mine. There was a girl in my choir class that my family thought for sure I was crushing on, but I honestly wasn't. I did have a crush on a girl in my choir, it just wasn't THAT girl. I tried to tell them as such, but they were so certain that I was in love with her even though I wasn't.)**


	19. Day 19: Consent

**AN: Trigger warning for depictions of rape.**

 **National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673**

"Oh, c'mon, Emily!" Rowena's voice was slurred and slow with whatever the doctors had stuck into her earlier. That might've been a few hours ago, but it was clear the young woman was still off her rocker. Well, then again, wasn't everyone here the same way? This was the Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, after all. Everyone in this place was mad, patient or doctor alike. Asylums like this didn't fix insanity. Heck, they couldn't even really control it. Asylums like this _bred_ it.

But even if madness _was_ the order for the day, every day, it was clear that some patients were still crazier than others, especially when injected with whatever mysterious and evil serum the doctors had in store for them. This was Rowena's issue. When Rowena normal, or as close as one could get in a world where leeches sang and rats talked, she was a demure soul. It seemed that her only crime had been trying to collect something in her father's will that did rightly belong to her, but her aunt and uncle had declared her insane and unfit to claim it, so she was sent here. That had been about one Hellish year ago. Now here she stood, still relatively meek and mild, just a bit… crazier. Especially now.

"C'mon Emily!" she repeated. She dragged at her fellow inmate's arm and looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"No, Rowena, please," Emily gently tugged her arm out of Rowena's grasp. "I'm really not in the mood."

"Oh, but Emily! You're always in the mood!" she made another grab for Emily's arm. "'Specially if it's your friends, 'specially if it's Veronica!"

"Veronica is a different matter entirely," Emily replied, flinching slightly as Rowena mentioned her name. "Besides, Veronica understands when I don't really feel like it," she added.

"But then she goes off and sleeps with someone else anyway! Doesn't that make you jealous?" Rowena pressed.

"No, not really," Emily answered truthfully. "And yes, you're right that she does sleep around quite a bit. But there's nothing wrong with that. Why don't you? I know Aprella has been pretty lonely recently," Emily took a step away from her fellow madwoman.

"But I don't really want Aprella," Rowena argued. "And I know it would make _me_ jealous that Veronica slept around all the time."

"But Veronica doesn't really concern you, does she?" Emily frowned, growing irritated now the longer this talk dragged on. "Besides, it doesn't bother me at all, because she only does it when she understands that I'm not in the mood," Emily slowed down and enunciated those last five words to get her point across, but it still flew right over Rowena's head.

"Then I'll make you in the mood!" she insisted proudly. She made one more swipe at Emily and managed to catch the fiery-haired girl's wrist.

"Hey! Let go!" Emily demanded, but Rowena held fast.

"No, I'm not going to let you go," Rowena said. "Not until I've proven to you how good I am."

"Look, I don't disbelieve you," Emily tried to back up, but Rowena had a shockingly tight grip for someone so thin.

"But I love you!" Rowena pleaded. "I've been in love with you for so long! You're just so strong and brave and beautiful! All I've ever wanted was to be with you and to make you happy!" the distraught girl cried.

For a moment, Emily paused, amazed by the confession. She had always been so wrapped up with Veronica that it never occurred to her that Rowena might've been in love with her too. Relationships (platonic, romantic, sexual or familial) were common across all of the inmates and they could range from monogamous to polygamous. The idea of multiple people having crushes on and sleeping with multiple others was not uncommon here. At the same time, though, Rowena's confession floored Emily, because it was just so unexpected.

"Name one thing that Veronica has that I don't!" Rowena continued, pleading.

"Respect for personal space, for one," Emily replied, trying one last time to remove her arm from Rowena's grasp.

Rowena was a good friend, but Emily felt no romantic or sexual desire for her. Her heart, and body, lay with Veronica, no matter how many other women Veronica chose to sleep with. Rowena, however, did not seem to be able to wrap her mind around the fact that Emily would choose a nymphomaniac over someone as monogamous as herself. If only she understood that, to Emily, it wasn't about monogamy or polygamy, it was about feelings and desire, neither of which she felt for Rowena. In addition, like she'd said, at least Veronica was ok with it when Emily wasn't in the mood for sex. That level of respect and understanding was something that Rowena lacked and it was what really drew the line between her and Veronica in Emily's eyes. (Well, that and, as stated before, Emily had no feelings for Rowena).

"Oh, come on! You know you love this!" Rowena suddenly began to kiss Emily's neck in the same teasing way Veronica did, only this time, Emily only felt fear and discomfort. Rowena's lips were too hot and too cold at the same time, too slimy and demanding. Veronica's were light and playful. Emily didn't like this at all. She continued to try and push Rowena away, repeating over and over again how she really didn't want Rowena in that way, but Rowena only continued to move her hands around Emily's body, insisting over and over again that Emily would come around in time. She continued to kiss and nibble, removing her and Emily's stockings, corsets and impossibly thin nightgowns.

"Someone help me! Please! Get her off!" Emily screamed, but no one came to help. The other inmates were at lunch, Rowena having intentionally kept Emily late, and God knew the doctors wouldn't do a bloody thing about it. In fact, Emily was certain that, if they could see what was going on, they would only join in the fun. The doctors were more sick in the head than any inmate here, except maybe Rowena.

"Come on, Emily, come on, baby!" Rowena grunted in pleasure as she continued her kisses and caresses. Emily continued to fight, but in the end, she lost the battle. It was partly because she didn't want to hurt Rowena because it was clear Rowena was too out of it to understand what she was doing in full and, as much as Rowena might've been hurting Emily, they were still in a sisterhood. Their bond of unity and friendship wouldn't be so easily shaken. Or would it?

Finally, Rowena finished with Emily and left her fellow inmate lying on the cold hard floor. She walked off with a satisfied expression.

"See, Emily! That wasn't so bad, was it? I enjoyed it and I'm sure you did too!" Rowena told the shaking girl. "I told you I would be good. And hey, I was gentle! It wasn't like those bloody doctors who had no concern for safety!" Rowena shuddered, momentarily lost in her own bad memories of cruel hands, cold faces and pain. Brutal control from heartless men, 'doctors' who were concerned about the 'health' of the inmates, their examinations being nothing short of humiliating and agonizing. Rowena remembered the face of every man who ever hurt her and shook her head. They had been rough and violent, screaming and laughing. They had enjoyed hurting and degrading her. She had been gentle with Emily, covering her with kisses the way Veronica would. Maybe Emily would come around eventually.

But Emily didn't. Long after Rowena had wandered away, Emily continued to lie there, more hurt than she thought she would be. It was true that, all things considered, Rowena hadn't been violent. She had not hit, scratched or bit Emily. But Emily still felt so… wrong. She felt so dirty, hurt and broken. For some reason, being hurt by Rowena in this way hurt more than Emily had expected. Her thighs were sore, but eyes burned with tears, her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. She supposed it was the emotional pain because, as ruthless and horrible as the doctors could be, they were the enemy. Rowena was supposed to be a friend, someone Emily could trust and like. But now roles were reversed and Emily was cowering from a sister the way she would a doctor. It just felt so wrong and backwards. And heck, every time the doctors had done something like this, it had been brutal. Rowena _had_ been gentle and that was what really was so unsettling. It felt… insane. But then again, this was an asylum. Insanity was bred here. It festered and grew, spreading like a plague between doctors and inmates alike until no one was safe.

But the madness, the backwardness, wasn't over yet. In time, Emily managed to drag herself to her feet. Lunch was over by then and all the inmates were being sent back to their cells. Emily obediently went to hers. It was a first. But it was because she was trying to avoid them. She was trying to avoid all of them. Veronica, Rowena, Aprella. All of them. Emily couldn't bring herself to face any of her sisters yet, no matter how willing they would've been to listen or help. Instead, this was something she felt she needed to think about first before she told anyone else. But Emily still wasn't free to just think and rest. Instead, only a few minutes after every door was locked, a doctor slammed open Emily's door.

"Come on, W14A!" it was Dr. Greavesly, one of the cruel surgeons of the asylum who took great pleasure in cutting open his girls and displaying their insides and outsides for the rest of the world to marvel at. "That idiot, Thomas, is here to see you again!" he continued, barging into the cell and yanking Emily right out of her bed, ignoring her cries of pain and protest.

One uncomfortable and forceful walk later, Emily was standing before Thompson and, without even meaning for it to happen, a wave of pure relief washed over the young woman. Suddenly, all the cares of the world were gone and she felt like she was coming home, even though she was still very much trapped in this asylum. There was just something so calming and soothing about Thompson. Even though he was with the doctors, he wasn't one of them. He was so much more kind and gentle, quiet and polite. He listened more than he spoke, which was a lot more than what the rest of these 'gentlemen' were capable of. Emily had come to see him as a very dear friend and she was quite sure that, in another time and another place, they might've been something far more than that and she would've been so very happy. Seeing his polite and sweet face calmed Emily in ways she hadn't expected and even though the cruel doctors were still there, Thompson's presence overrode theirs and Emily felt at ease for the first time since they were last together.

"Ok, Emily, are you ready for more pictures?" the eager young man asked. It broke Emily's heart to hear him. He was just so sweet and innocent. He really had no clue what vile purposes his photographs were serving. He thought they were only to promote the asylum as an esteemed medical institution for women of all kinds to come and ail their woes. Instead, the place was quite literally a whore-house. That's what the photos were really for. But Thompson didn't know that. Of course he didn't. He was, like a lot of the other inmates here, too good and pure for this sinful and cruel and selfish world.

"Of course I am," Emily replied in a soft, gentle tone. Then she obediently followed his every command, becoming clay in his hands as he did what he wished with her. He moved her body in any way he desired. It reminded Emily of Rowena… And yet, it was so very different. Emily was still a slave to both of them, but she felt safe with Thompson. He moved her body at his will, but it didn't feel wrong the way Rowena had. Emily shuddered again at the thought.

"Are you alright?" Thompson released his hold on Emily's arms, interrupting her thoughts.

"Perfectly," the young woman replied with an emotionless tone, but her eyes flicked over to the silently watching doctor. Thompson managed to catch that small glance and cleared his throat.

"My good Dr. Greavesly, if you could be so kind as to leave my muse and I alone for just five minutes? I wish to get a picture of her standing close to the door and I would capture the rest of the room in the photo as well," Thompson requested.

"And you do not wish me to be in the picture as well?" Dr. Greavesly replied in a terrible voice. There was a hint of wariness that was mingled with very dark humor as he scrutinized Thompson with a dangerously pensive eye.

"I am afraid not, sir," Thompson managed to keep things light and he even laughed a little, giving a small bounce of his shoulders as he did so.

"Very well," Dr. Greavesly replied, then he left the room without another word, but it was clear that he was still going to be listening in closely...

The moment the door shut again, however, Thompson quietly led Emily over to the far corner of the room. He didn't say a word, but the silent question flickered in his eyes and Emily couldn't help but tell him everything. It was funny, Emily didn't trust men. She didn't even trust some of her inmates. And yet here she was, spilling her heart out to this man, this stranger, this person who was technically an enemy. Here she was, telling him secrets she could barely tell herself, or even her closest of friends. But still, the words fell from her lips like blood from leeched skin. But it felt really good and Thompson listened. He wasn't just hearing the sound of her voice, he was understanding the words and all of the meaning behind them. He was really, really, listening. And it felt wonderful.

"Oh, Emily, I am so sorry," the young man breathed. He opened his arms but didn't move more than that, waiting for Emily to make the next move. Emily swallowed nervously but she nodded slightly and leaned into Thompson's hug. He closed his arms around her slowly, always giving her time to back away, but she didn't. Even though a small part of her hated feeling him touch her, a larger part of her let him touch her just so she could feel something again. They remained that way for a moment before Thompson suddenly spoke up.

"Brilliant, Emily! Just like that! Now tilt your head a little, there you go!" and Emily understood at once what he was doing. He was keeping up the ruse that he was taking her picture. A sudden rush of gratitude for Thompson's unconditional love and support, despite the danger, washed over Emily and she began to sob softly. Thompson shook his leg against the table to mask the noise and Emily felt another rush of affection for him.

For a few minutes, they remained in that position, Emily simply clinging to Thompson like a drowning man to a rope while he shouted out the occasional command, but finally, Thompson spoke up.

"I don't have much more time today, Emily, but I promise I will come back to you as soon as I can. Maybe even tomorrow," he said urgently.

"Don't worry about me," the inmate replied miserably, face still buried in his chest. His clean shirt smelled like rosemary, for some reason.

"But I have to come back, Emily," Thompson repeated urgently. "You need someone to look after you!" he was sincere, but Emily recoiled.

"You think I need a man to save me?" she demanded, a flash of old spirit returning.

"No. I think you need a friend to take care of you and help you recover," Thompson replied, unruffled by Emily's little outburst. "There is no shame in any person of any gender helping out any other person of any gender, especially after something like this. It is not a matter of who saves who, it's a matter of helping a friend."

"But who can say it was even trauma?" Emily asked miserably. "She left no visible mark on me."

"Just because it was done by a friend and just because it wasn't brutal doesn't make it ok," Thompson replied. "The moment Rowena tried to touch you without consent, it became a rape," the moment Thompson said that last word, a violent shudder ripped itself through Emily. Even though she knew what that word meant all too well, for some reason, hearing it said allowed brought back all of its horrors.

"But what can I do about it?" Emily moaned.

"To be honest, I don't know," Thompson sighed, clearly hurting for his friend. "But I would advise you to talk to someone about it the way you did me. Like one of the doctors, you know?"

"No!" Emily hissed on reflex. "I can't tell one of them! Don't you know what they would do to me… to Rowena, if they knew?" as much as Emily hated Rowena right then, she didn't want Rowena to have to experience what torture that doctors would have in store for a girl who slept with another girl. Emily was honestly quite amazed Veronica hadn't been caught yet, given how promiscuous she was. "The doctors are even worse than 1000 Rowenas!" Emily continued. It was a dangerous thing to confess, but it just came out. After spending so much time hurting alone, to finally have Thompson with her made Emily desperate and suddenly, all of her confessions came spilling out at once.

"What? No! Impossible!" Thompson breathed in horror. "You mean the doctors rape you?"

"You can't tell anyone!" Emily replied.

"But I can't just sit here either!" Thompson pleaded.

"What do you think your photographs are for, Thompson?" Emily demanded next. For a moment, Thompson could only stare, but when Emily's implications sank in, his eyes widened in horror.

"My God, what have I done?" he gasped in despair.

"You can't tell anyone!" Emily repeated.

"But I can't just sit here!" Thompson repeated too.

"Then bide your time!" Emily suggested. "We are running out of it today, but if you really want, you can help us. Please! Help us!" Emily's eyes finally began showing the madness within and Thompson swallowed in terror, but at the same time, he only became more determined to help Emily and all her friends escape this façade of an asylum.

"I will come back tomorrow," Thompson finally decided. "And I will see if I can talk to your other friends. Can you stay strong for now?"

"That's all I've ever done," Emily replied, but she nodded anyway. The two finally stood up. "And Thompson, thank you so much," Emily added.

"No one should have to go through this," Thompson said, packing up his camera. "And you stay away from that girl you told me about," he added.

"I plan on it," Emily laughed brokenly. "I just can't believe she actually did it…"

"Whatever you do, don't blame yourself," Thompson pleaded. "You said no and that was all you could do. Anything further falls upon her hands. You didn't deserve this and you did nothing to bring it upon yourself. And that goes for the doctors too!" the young man added, glaring at the door where Dr. Greavesly stood waiting on its other side. "Rape is never the victim's fault and anyone can be a rapist, friend or foe, man or woman. The important thing is to try and get out. I'm glad you told me, Emily, because now that I know, I think we can finally start making some progress. It's going to be a very long and hard battle, but I'm ready to fight. Are you?" Thompson looked at Emily with a new ferocity.

"I am," she replied with the same intensity, and she was. Tired and hurt as she was, she was ready to fight. The doctors weren't going to hurt or oppress them anymore. The doctors weren't going to gaslight them and twist them into creatures that they were not. Even though Rowena was technically a rapist, Emily was starting to see that it had all come from one central point: the doctors. They instigated the violence and then, once it entered the asylum, it only continued to spread and circle around in an endless loop of pain and suffering. Rowena had done something terrible today, but she had not been born that way. Instead, the violence and cruelty of society had twisted her into something horrible. Now it was time to rise up against that society. No more monsters would be bred from the insanity. Instead, it was time to fight like a girl and rise!

ooo

Several hours later, Emily was back in her cell for the night. She still hadn't told Veronica yet about the incident with Rowena, but that was ok. Thompson had assured her that it was entirely up to her who she chose to tell, if anyone at all. At most, he could only advise her to tell Veronica, knowing that they were very close, but he couldn't force her to. Instead, he had only suggested it, but promised her that it was ok if she didn't come forward. But Emily had told Captain Jolie Rogue. She knew that Jolie would understand. She would understand what it felt like to be hurt by someone you used to consider family. Jolie's speech had been much the same as Thompson's, though a little less softly-spoke. Instead, Jolie's speech was quite fiery and passionate, but it still held the same message.

"Ain't nobody allowed to tell you what to do with your body except yourself!" she insisted loudly.  
"Shhh!" Emily replied, not wanting the entire floor to hear. This was still very private and personal.

"Ooops, sorry!" Jolie repeated, softer. "But like I was sayin', it ain't nobody's right but yers to do what you done and Rowena's a right foul git for what she's done to ye," Jolie continued to speech. "She may have been a sister once, but she ain't no sister now. No member of my fine pirate crew would ever be allowed to harm a comrade! It's mutiny!" Jolie continued to rave. Emily could only smile weakly. Jolie was just so well-meant, even though she was over-simplifying things. As the time had passed, Emily became less and less certain of how she wanted Rowena to be punished. Yes, she still deserved punishment for her crime, but it shouldn't be too serious because she was just as much as a victim as anyone.

At last, however, Jolie settled down. She opened up her arms to Emily but, like Thompson, didn't reach out to hug Emily until Emily reciprocated. It was then that Emily understood why she liked Veronica, Jolie and Thompson so much more than the doctors or Rowena. Unlike the latter two, the former three always waited for consent. They always waited for a green light to do anything to anyone else. Like Emily and Rowena had said, Veronica did ask Emily for sex quite often, but Emily ever said no, that was that. It was a verbal consent, or lack thereof, that dictated whether or not the two would spend the night together or not. And as for Jolie and Thompson, their consent had been physical in the sense that they didn't touch without Emily's consent. They may not have expressly asked for Emily to say yes or no, but the body language was enough for them to get the hint. They still waited for Emily to initiate, even if she didn't use her words to. That was what made them different from the others. It was what made them better. They waited for Emily. They didn't push or plead. And they could read the signs, whether verbal or not.

So there Emily lay, in the arms of her Captain. Emily decided that she would indeed tell Veronica, but not yet. She still needed a bit of time to think and rest. She'd told Thompson and Jolie and that was enough for now, even if neither of them could do too much to help. But they were going to try and that was enough for now. They were going to try and protect Emily from Rowena, they would both deal with her later. Their main concern was trying to save everyone else from this endless cycle of violence. The only difference was that, while Thompson was outside trying to raise awareness of the Hell that was the asylum, Jolie was curled up silently with Emily in her arms. It was getting very late, but she was still sitting upright, eyes open as she watched endlessly through the dark, guarding her friend as she rested, escaping into the dreamworld.

 **AN: National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673**

 **I know this was a very serious topic, so please come talk to me if anything seemed offensive or off-color. For example, I don't want to seem like I was forgiving what Rowena had done to Emily, but at the same time, I have seen studies that say that rape is more likely to happen between people who already know each other than it is to happen between strangers. This story is meant to reflect that and all the trauma that would come from being hurt by someone you knew and trusted. But again, if anything seems even a little problematic, please tell me, because I understand that this is a very serious topic, and I don't want to put out anything that seems unsavory or incorrect.**


	20. Day 20: Hot

"Whew!" Iris wiped her forehead. "It's hot out!"

"It's the middle of June, what do you expect?" Storm replied with a smirk.

"I know, but still! I'm dying here!" Iris pretended to swoon and she even leaned backward as if to fall over, but when Storm did nothing more than raise an eyebrow, Iris straightened up again.

"You're supposed to catch me when I swoon!" she complained.

"Ummm, no thanks," Storm snickered and she made no move to help Iris at all.

"Gee, thanks," Iris deadpanned. Storm only shrugged casually. Suddenly then, an unnaturally cold breeze swept over Storm and Iris.

"Oooh!" Iris shivered in pleasure. "Avalon is finally here!" and sure enough, ey was.

Coming over a nearby high-rise, dark red hair gleaming in the boiling sun, was none other than Avalon Maddox emself. Ey were wearing beach-clothes and grinning like an idiot.

"Are you two wanting to join me at the Southern Sea?" ey asked, referring to the beach that bordered the southernmost tip of Camp Heath.

"Only if you promise to keep using your ice Gift," Iris replied eagerly. Avalon only laughed again before stretching out eir hand. Another icy breeze blew over Storm and Iris and they both shivered in pleasure again.

"Looks like you were sweating up a storm, eh?" Avalon joked, turning eir arctic-blue eyes to Storm. Storm rolled her eyes at the bad joke.

"Aren't we so lucky to be the camp that got the ice Gifted?" Iris asked no one in particular, but both Storm and Avalon agreed.

A few minutes later, Iris and Storm had both agreed to join Avalon down at the beach. Denbar wasn't in any danger, so although soldier still trained hard every day, they were more able to take break days such as this one. Even Storm didn't have much work to do and she was the most renowned soldier in all of Denbar. Her fighting skills and body count were staggering. If she was able to take the day off, so was everyone else. Besides, it was too hot to do much anyway. Sometimes soldiers did train during immense heat, but Denbar tried to avoid overdoing it just because the country didn't want its soldiers dying of heatstroke. Today was an off day and it sounded like most of Camp Heath was going to be at the beach. It was going to be especially busy if Avalon's icy powers were going to be present too…

Sure enough, the beach was overflowing with soldiers. Some were in the sand and some in the sea. A large multitude, however, was following Avalon around, greedily soaking in the icy wind ey were giving off.

"I hope this doesn't go to eir head," Storm muttered in disgust as the young soldier paraded proudly around the beach.

"Oh, let em have eir fun," Iris chuckled. Besides, it seemed that Avalon had already allowed this seasonal fame to go to eir head and the only thing that would stop it would be when the cooler weather finally returned to Denbar.

"It just doesn't do well for a person to let pride go to their head!" Storm insisted under her breath. Iris only laughed in reply. She knew Storm prided herself on her humility, if that wasn't too much of a contradiction. It always got under the stoic blond's skin to see anyone at all trying to act more important than anyone else. That even included people like Avalon. Storm had to admit that eir power was especially useful for the summer, but all the fame did seem a bit much.

"Oh, look! Looks like some other Gifted decided to show up!" Iris interrupted Storm's thoughts.

"What?!" she cried angrily, but Iris wasn't bluffing. Over the horizon came several other old friends. Princeton, Quincy, Emma and Maggie were there. As were Wilde, Vesper, Rexus and Connor. "Where did they all come from?!" Storm demanded softly.

"They probably came to see Avalon," Iris chuckled. She was proven right moments later when the large crowd of Gifted flocked over to the ice Gifted. The tiny brunette began to laugh while Storm only shook her head.

Suddenly, then, a blast of hot air crossed the entire beach. A loud, despairing cry rose up from the crowd as everyone turned to see what had caused the sudden heat wave. A handsome person with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail appeared on the horizon. Xyr eyes looked like literal twin fires and xe laughed as xe came down the little hill leading to the beach. Another blast of heat crossed the beach.

"Rowan! Knock it off!" Maggie thundered at her comrade. She glared at him, her own eyes glowing dangerously, but Rowan only laughed. In truth, xe was just as hot as everyone else and xe, like the other Gifted, had come down to pay dear old Avalon a visit. Rowan might've been able to control fire, but xe was not immune to heat. At least not entirely. Sure, xe could withstand flames, especially xyr own, but days as hot as this made even Rowan look to the ice Gifted for some help.

"Chill, Maggie," Rowan joked. "It's just because it's June, it's Pride Month! Of course it'll be hot. Especially thanks to me! I'm so hot!"

"You keep telling yourself that," Maggie grunted. "But it's too hot for you to be doing your fire junk here!"

"Nah, I'm just looking for my main mate, Avalon!" Rowan continued, looking around for xyr friend.

"Of course, can I get you an autograph?" Avalon teased as Rowan arrived.

"Only if you sign in ice on my back," Rowan replied, so Avalon acquiesced.

"Oh my Denbar," Maggie buried her face in her palm as Avalon carefully spelled out eir name across Rowan's tanned back. Avalon then used his Gift to strengthen the ice in such a way that it would not melt until Avalon released his hold on it.

"Sweet! Do me next!" Princeton pleaded, stripping off his own shirt to reveal a far scrawnier but equally tanned frame. The only difference was, Rowan's back was naturally a shade of brown. Princeton was just lucky to tan very well, unlike Emma who burnt up pretty fast. She was covered in several layers of sunscreen that Quincy and Maggie had both helped her apply.

"Ahhhh, that feels good!" Princeton hummed as his friend coated his back in a layer of ice. But suddenly, his ecstasy became pain as Avalon intentionally made part of his back too cold. "Ouch!" he yelped, twisting away from his fellow Gifted.

"Ooops, sorry bro," Avalon pretended to apologize. Princeton glared at em but was too desperate for the sweet relief of the ice to say anything. Instead, he only gave his back to Avalon again and waited for Avalon to finish eir autograph.

"Wanna go over there and get our backs signed?" Iris joked, still watching Avalon's antics with Storm from several feet back.

"No," Storm answered sharply, still watching in disgust.

"Oh, lighten up," Iris elbowed the taller, older woman. Storm only grunted in return so Iris tried again. "Let's say you and I just go swimming," she suggested. There were a lot of other soldiers already in the water, those on the beach being the precious few that didn't intend upon swimming. They were only there for Avalon, but Iris didn't mind swimming in the ocean and she knew Storm loved anything physical. This would be fun.

"Ok," the blond finally agreed to something. Iris jumped up and down happily before taking off towards the water.

"Race ya!" she shouted back over her shoulder. Storm watched her go with a laugh before she went sprinting after the tiny brunette and crashing headfirst into the nice, cool waves. Ahhhh! That was so much better!

 **AN: Just something short and happy to offset yesterday. And yes, this is in honor of how hot June has been this year (at least for me), and there were a few new Denbar characters there as well. Sorry the list is so long. I swear you'll meet them all properly eventually.**


	21. Day 21: Polite Conversation

"So, uhhh, Harry?" Seamus Finnigan walked over to his fellow Gryffindor with a kind of swagger and there was a curious smirk on his face. Harry, who had been trying to work on another painfully long and boring potions essay while also trying to eat lunch, looked up.

"What?" he asked. Seamus' grin grew. "Why are you smiling at me like that?" Harry felt a wave of unease wash over him.

"Ah, no reason," Seamus pretended to shrug. "Just polite conversation with a classmate."

"Well if that isn't the biggest lie I've ever heard," Harry replied in a deadpanning tone, unease turning into annoyance.

"Ok, so you got me there," Seamus raised his arms in playful surrender. "I just came over here to ask you, because Dean wanted to know-"

"No I didn't!" another young wizard interrupted, hopping up from his seat at the long table.

"Sure you did!" Seamus grinned wolfishly at him too. Dean continued to protest, but Harry interrupted them both.

"Wanted to know what?" he demanded. He didn't mean to come off as so cross, but with this essay being as long and confusing as it was, he really didn't need to be distracted by other students at the moment. He was busy! Couldn't they see that?

"What did you want to know?" Harry repeated with a tired sigh, silently urging them to just get on with it already.

"Dean wanted to know if you were gay!" Seamus replied, having to shout a little because of Dean begging him not to say anything. The moment Seamus finished asking, however, Dean groaned and hid his face in his hands. Harry, meanwhile, was stunned into silence.

"What?" he asked once the ability to speak finally returned to him.

"Dean wanted to know if you were gay," Seamus repeated, looking totally nonchalant despite how private the question was.

"No I didn't," Dean tried again, but much softer since the question had already been asked.

"What in Merlin's beard ever gave you that idea?" Harry answered the question with another question.

"Well, you seemed to have been quite fixated on Mr. Malfoy all year and Dean and I couldn't help but notice…" Seamus trailed off, still smirking.

"What! Merlin, no!" Harry hissed in disgust. "Draco and I? Are you mental?"

"No, just observant," Seamus shrugged with a cheeky expression. "I mean, you've been staring after him and talking about him all the bloody time and Dean and I weren't starting to wonder if you might be at least a little gay for him?"

"No. That's disgusting!" Harry shook his head, nose crinkling.

"What is?" now Dean was finally speaking up. "The idea of you and Draco, or the idea of two men?" for a moment, the playful air went dark and Harry could sense that he was approaching a rather touchy subject. He understood why, not many witches and wizards were queer, let alone out, but that was because it was an uncommon thing. It wasn't necessarily unnatural, it just wasn't common. And Harry knew he had to think up something fast before some kind of riot broke out because of this conflict between him and Dean.

"Me and Draco, I mean," Harry said. "Blimey, I'd be fine if it were Ron!" he added as a joke, but then Dean's face lit up.

"TOLD YOU!" he bragged to Seamus, hostility gone just like that.

"Told him what?" Harry frowned. Just what in Merlin's beard was going on?

"That you would totally do it with Ron," Dean explained. Harry inwardly cringed at the idea while Seamus pretended to grumble angrily. Truth be told, Harry was fairly sure he was straight. His sexuality wasn't something he'd thought much about. But to have Seamus and Dean both coming up to him now, demanding to know if he was gay, did make him wonder. This 'polite conversation' was taking a very weird turn…

"Look, I don't know what exactly you guys are getting onto," Harry said finally. "But I'm fairly sure I am not gay."

"Suuuure," Dean and Seamus both gave Harry disbelieving looks.

"Look. I have a potions essay to write. If would be so kind as to either help me or leave, that would be much appreciated!" Harry insisted.

"Is something the matter here?" a new voice entered the conversation.

"Professor Dumbledore!" respect instantly entered all three of the boys' voices as their headmaster walked over.

"Yes, hello. It is a lovely day, is it not?" he asked serenely as he approached the trio.

"Yes, sir," the three replied, still in total respect for the wise old wizard walking towards them.

"Then please, tell me, is anything the matter?" he asked gently.

"No, just having some polite conversation," Seamus answered for himself and the other two.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, raising a white eyebrow as he looked at Harry and Dean. The two only nodded, not daring to speak. "Well then, that is good, for it is amongst the most pleasant and idle of conversations that the closest of friendships begin."

"Isn't it, sir?" Seamus agreed, then Dumbledore took leave of the three young wizards, but before he had gone entirely, he caught Harry's eye and Harry thought for sure that he saw a knowing twinkle in them. It was a look that told him that things weren't always what they seemed and that maybe queer wizards weren't as rare as one thought. It was a twinkle that let Harry know Dumbledore knew exactly what their 'polite conversation' was about and Harry began to blush at once.

"See, Dumbledore knows," Dean said mysteriously.

"Nah, I'd bet he would agree with me!" Seamus insisted.

"Yeah right!" Dean play-punched Seamus' arm and Harry could only stare up at them, completely baffled by all that was going on. He even looked around himself to see if anyone else was hearing any of this craziness, but the only person who caught his eye was McGonagall and she had that same knowing look that Dumbledore had given Harry a moment ago. Harry shook his head again and, while Dean and Seamus continued to muse on whether Harry would be more likely to snog Ron or Draco, several clouds passed by and uncovered the sun. The moment the bright light streamed through the windows of the Great Hall, several rainbows spread themselves across the floor.

 **AN: What house would you guys be in? I'm either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.**

 **And yes, this was just a weird little HP short that's meant to take place in 'Half-Blood Prince', and yes, it addresses Harry/Draco and Harry/Ron and even hints to Dumbledore being gay and McGonagall being an ally, but really only Seamus and Dean are supposed to be 'canon' in this story.**

 **Also, if Harry seems slightly homophobic in this story, it's just because the series took place in the 1990s and although the LGBT community certainly existed back then, it wasn't nearly as accepted as it is now in 2018 and admittedly, if one looked at the demographics of Hogwarts, Hogwarts is very cis-het. I wanted to make Harry the "You mean they were gay? I didn't know!" guy because he is rather oblivious sometimes, but he wasn't meant to be like a "Homosexuality is unnatural" guy. I feel like he'd been fine with it once he got more used to it because, again, Hogwarts isn't exactly a queer school, you know? But that was just because it was a different time. Anyway, if there are any issues in this story that you can spot, send feedback! My inbox is always open!**


	22. Day 22: Worrying

From the morning until the early afternoon, Iris and Clover and their families worked their respective booths at the latest local pride event. Iris' pride booth was selling food and drink. The food was an array of pastries that Lester had baked last night and Mae was helping hand out water bottles. Those were free of charge. It was mid June, it was way too hot to go without some water! Clover's booth, meanwhile, was selling an array of jewelry. There were some bracelets that Clover had designed and made herself, there were some flags of varying size that Rusty sewed, and there were pins that Diane had designed from some online do-it-yourself website.

Once the afternoon was about halfway over, though, Iris and Clover were released from their posts.

"If you girls wanted to go explore the festival yourself, you're more than happy to do so now," Mae told the two.

"Really?" the brunette and ginger both sat up in excitement. Although running the booth was decently fun, getting to talk and sell things to other pride parade attendees, the two girls felt that it would be far more fun to go exploring themselves instead of remaining stuck in a booth.

"Sure," Diane, on the other side of the two girls, agreed with Mae. "It's gotten a little less busy and besides, now that we're all set up, we don't really need an extra set of hands. If you girls want to take the rest of the day off, have fun!"

"Sweet!" Clover and Iris jumped up at once after getting their parents' permissions to go and the two, hand in hand, went darting off merrily.

After the two girls were gone, the four parents turned to each other and laughed.

"Spirited little things, aren't they?" Lester smiled as the two ran off.

"Just like when they were little," Rusty agreed, a nostalgic note entering his voice. It was hard to believe they were nearly done with high school. Wasn't it only yesterday when he was still changing diapers and feeding Clover from a bottle?

"I only hope they stay safe…" Rusty's nostalgia turned to worry.

"Ah, don't worry, darling," Diane reassured her husband with a pat on the back. "They are mature women now, strong and wise. They can handle themselves, I am sure," Diane gave a satisfied smile, greatly pleased with the wonderful women the two girls had become. She, unlike her worrying husband, was entirely confident in Iris and Clover's ability to discern right from wrong.

"I know, I know," Rusty promised. "I know they know how to behave, I just worry for their safety."

"Don't we all?" Mae chuckled. Although she didn't worry nearly as much as Rusty did, because no one out-worried Rusty, Mae was certainly familiar with all the heart attacks a child could give a parent.

In fact, Mae had even suffered a minor one when she and Iris were walking into the pride park earlier that morning. A few of the religious zealots had been standing at the gates already, protesting the event. Mae knew how sensitive Iris was about this topic and it had worried her that seeing their signs might act as a trigger for her, but Iris had only scoffed and kept on walking. That was a great relief to the woman. But at the same time, that opened up old wounds for Mae anyway. It was not that the zealots upset her, it was the memories associated with them. She had seen on the news all of stories about queer people being hurt or killed by enemies and family alike and it terrified her to think that people as cruel as that honestly existed. She couldn't imagine what was going through the mind of a parent who forcefully removed their own child from the house simply because that child wasn't cis or het and her heart broke for the child in question. It was a constant fear of hers that Iris might cross paths with one of these monsters in human skins. She was just so tiny and fragile… Mae wished desperately, and not for the first time, that Iris would only find happiness and acceptance in all her days, whether or not she ended up with a man or a woman or anyone at all.

Mae knew that all of these fears were fears that Rusty shared too. It was why he was worrying. As safe as pride events were for queer people, there was always the threat of a homophobic person slipping in and causing havoc. But sometimes, the danger came from the queer people themselves. Rusty could still remember the night he and Clover had gone to some LGBT Film Festival and, some time during one of the films, caught some stranger groping his daughter. The stranger wasn't doing more than that, true, but she was still technically harassing Clover because Clover hadn't given consent to touch and that was all Rusty needed to see before he literally threw the stranger off of Clover. Rusty may have been as thin and lanky as Clover, but he could be incredibly strong when needed to. It just worried him that Clover or Iris would run into some other creeps here, queer or not. Being LGBT didn't automatically make you a good person. In fact, Rusty knew a lot of bad queer people and he feared them just as much as he feared the homophobic crowd. And even if it wasn't outright harassment, Rusty knew that the queer community could be bi- and transphobic and racist. Although Iris and Clover were both Caucasian and cis-gendered, he would still worry for them in case they ever ran into the less-than-friendly side of the community.

But Mae and Rusty weren't the only ones worrying. Diane and Lester, stoic as they seemed, also had fears for their daughters. Diane still remembered walking in on Iris a couple years ago. The girl had been having a sleepover with Clover but some night terror had woken her up. She had been in the middle of pacing the kitchen floor alone and in the dark when Diane saw her. She had only been in the kitchen for a midnight snack but, turning on the kitchen light, she had not expected to see Iris trying to control her breathing. Iris hadn't expected to see Diane either, too lost in her worrying to hear the woman arrive.

It had been an awkward few minutes, Iris trying to insist that nothing was wrong and Diane trying to insist that there was without alienating the girl. Diane had always been a bit coarse and rough around the edges, not always the best at being soft and affectionate, but she still cared deeply about her family and she always knew when something was wrong and, even though she understood and respected the concept of being asked to leave someone alone while they were in distress, she was still trying to persuade Iris to tell her first.

It had taken awhile, but Iris did finally admit that she wasn't very confident in her sexuality. Bi-erasure mixed with homophobia in general meant that sometimes the world was very unkind to someone like Iris and she would meet enemies both in the world and the queer community itself. This made her more alone than most and it wasn't always an easy burden to carry. Now, maybe Iris herself had never been hurt or harassed for her identity, but knowing that there were people out there who either didn't believe what she was or wanted her to stop and just pick a side worried her. Maybe that seemed silly, but Diane knew at once that this fear was very real for Iris. Why else would the girl be frantically pacing the kitchen at… 2:00 am?

Diane had been able to give Iris some comfort and confidence and was able to figure out, with 100% certainty, that Iris was not using any unhealthy coping skills (such as self-harm, drug use or unsafe sex) to handle her worrying, but Diane would still never forget that agonized, lost and downright miserable look on Iris' face that night. Maybe the girl was more confident in her identity now, but Diane forever worried that Iris might relapse into her doubt and insecurity. And what of Clover? Clover wasn't even really sure what her sexuality was, and although it didn't bother her, it bothered Diane. Not because she wanted Clover to find a working label for herself, but she was worried that one day, the uncertainty would get to Clover the same way it had gotten to Iris. Self-doubt could be just as dangerous as any religious zealot or creepy pervert.

Lester understood all of these fears as well, but his were on a slightly larger scale, and as he watched his daughter and her best friend run through the parade grounds, his heart broke just a little bit. Sure, he worried about animosity from aggressive people, queer or not, and sure he understood how dangerous self-doubt and self-loathing were, but he was more concerned about society as a whole. Things were getting better, he wouldn't deny that, but there was still so much left to do. There were a lot more battles to be fought, violence sprees to be ended, prejudices to be changed, accommodations to be made, laws to be passed and discriminations to be put down. The people Lester knew, including himself and everyone else at this pride event, were all working hard to fix those problems, but it just wasn't enough. There needed to be a larger change if life was truly to become safe for LGBT people. There couldn't just be a few safe spaces here and there. There had to be equal rights, protection, freedom and benefits amongst all people. But even if laws were in their favor, it was easier to change a law than a heart. Even with protective laws, acts of violence and discrimination still ran rampant. If the world was to truly step up its game, hearts had to change just as much as the laws did, and that was a much harder task.

He worried that Iris and Clover would suffer in the future because of their identity as queer people. He worried that they wouldn't be able to find jobs, homes, or supportive friends and families. He worried that they would be ostracized or hurt. He worried that they would be mocked, slandered or ignored. Once again, Lester knew full well that LGBT rights were growing, but there were still far too many reports of violence, disownments, suicide, job loss or ruined reputations for Lester to confidently say that the fight for equality was over. Lester vowed that, as long as discrimination existed, he would worry for his children and the children of others. He vowed that, as long as hatred was alive, he would fight against it, through thought, word and deed. He vowed that, as long as there were people out there who wished to stifle others, Lester would be there to try and enlighten them. There was nothing wrong with having a different opinion. There was, however, something wrong with hurting those you disagreed with. Those were the people Lester worried most about.

While Iris and Clover spent the entire day running around the park, laughing and dancing as they made new friends everywhere, whether inside or out of a booth or the proverbial closet itself, their parents continued worrying. It was not all-consuming, but it still happened because, in the end, all four of them wanted the same thing. They wanted their children to have a happy, healthy and, most importantly, normal life. There were moments when all four of them couldn't help but wish that their daughters had been entirely straight, but that was not out of homophobia. Instead, it was just because they all knew life could be dangerous for a queer person and no parent wanted to see their child in danger.

But at the same time, not a single one of the four parents would've changed Clover or Iris for anything at all and they were more than happy to acknowledge and accept that the two girls were NOT straight. But as long as the four were ready and willing to acknowledge that their children were not straight, they would also have to be ready and willing to fight for their rights, and they would also have to be ready for some losses. It was going to be a long and hard road, but all four of them had promised long ago that they would support their children unconditionally, no matter the cost. It was an honor and pleasure both, in their eyes, to protect and help their children in any way they could, even if it was as simple as listening to them talk or helping them run a pride booth. Support was important and always mattered, even if it was given in small, simple ways.

 **AN: Shout out to all of my allies and supportive family/friends! I appreciate and love you all! I wouldn't be half the girl I am today without you, so thank you so much for believing in me when I couldn't do it myself!**


	23. Day 23: Acting Classes

"Girl, we gotta get you some actin' classes or somethin', 'cause this thang just ain't workin' out right!" Mushu chastised his human friend, Mulan. It had been sheer luck alone that none of the other soldiers in General Shang's army had discovered that she was a woman yet. Already, Mulan had nearly given herself away twice with her more feminine behaviors and it was barely even noon.

"I know, Mushu, and I'm trying! But what do you want me to do?" Mulan whispered desperately to the little red dragon hiding in her armor.

"I don't know, but we gotta do something fast because this just ain't working out right!" Mushu repeated.

Mulan sighed heavily. As obnoxious as she found Mushu and his criticism, she couldn't deny that he was right. They really did need to come up with something before Mulan's cover was blown. Mulan had only been here for a couple weeks and, already, she'd nearly been caught about 48 times (plus four times by the general himself)! And, to top it off, Mulan was certain that some of the more intelligent soldiers were finally starting to catch onto her. There had to be at least a few guys in this large company that realized that Ping wasn't all he seemed to be.

"Ok, that's it! Starting tonight, I'm gonna be your new acting coach!" Mushu decided.

"You?" Mulan nearly snorted. What did this noodle of a dragon know about acting classes?

"That's right!" Mushu missed Mulan's sarcasm in a fit of grandiose. "Tonight, as soon as all the other soldiers are in bed, you and me are gonna go out to the far corner of the camp and I'm gonna teach you how to be a man! And we gonna drill harder than you ever thought possible. I'm gonna be giving you tests and exams like you don't even know! Why, it'll be enough to put old General I'm-A-Big-Strong-Scary-Tough-Guy to shame!"

"I, uhhh, don't think that's such a good idea," Mulan murmured as Mushu gushed. "What if we get caught out of bed?"

"Well do you wanna get caught for being a girly-girl instead? Because that's where your headed now!" Mushu reminded Mulan. Mulan cringed as she realized Mushu was right. So, acting classes it was…

Sadly, the acting classes didn't go nearly as well as Mulan had hoped. Sure, the things Mushu taught Mulan were easy enough. In fact, they'd all been things he'd taught to her before, just in a less-formal environment as now. They were all things like speaking low, walking with a heavy tread, being loud, rude and obnoxious, never apologizing and always bellowing, laughing as long and loud as possible at stupid or dirty jokes, eating and smelling like a fat pig, spending every single second trying to be tough, waving a sword around like an idiot, talking about pretty girls and drooling over the thought of them, etc. It was all standard stuff, but for some reason, it just didn't seem to be working out.

"They also don't wipe up their bodily fluids!" Mushu told Mulan as she strutted around, waving her sword high in the air like a flag. "Oh, man, you gotta get all up in there in that stuff! Ain't no proper cleaning and pedicures for you no more!" Mushu cackled.

"Gross," Mulan was cringing hard, but she continued to try and do everything exactly as Mushu had said. She stomped when she walked, she swung her arms and puffed out her chest, she kept her eyes focused and narrowed, she kept a cocky kind of smirk on at all times, etc. And when she practiced speaking, she brought her voice down way lower than she was used to and made sure to be very gruff and concise. She barked greetings and farewells and made sure she always sounded confident, even when she wasn't. For a moment, she thought she was doing really well…

"Oooh, you know what? Maybe we need to start having daytime acting classes too," Mushu muttered as he watched Mulan strut.

"What?" Mulan's voice accidently returned to its normal, higher octave when she heard this.

"I mean, you just kinda…uhhh…" Mushu scratched the back of his neck, cringing horribly as he tried to break it to Mulan that she made the world's worst man. The little red dragon finally turned to Mulan's other, smaller, nonhuman companion: Cri-Kee. "Cri-Kee, my man, do you know how to explain any of this?" he asked.

"Uh-uh," Cri-Kee squeaked back. He had been watching Mulan for the past hour, practicing her 'manly routines' and he had to say, for once, he actually agreed with Mushu. Mulan just wasn't cut out for being a man. Unlike Mushu, however, Cri-Kee felt a deep sympathy for Mulan.

Where Mushu seemed bent on whipping Mulan into shape, Cri-Kee just wished that the girl could've been allowed to be herself. Why was it that a man was the only one allowed to serve? From what Cri-Kee had seen, none of the men were much better than Mulan, so why was it such a scandal if there was a woman in the army? Why couldn't Mulan be allowed to be feminine and like girly things while also serving in the military? Maybe he just had a tiny brain, being a cricket and all, but Cri-Kee didn't understand why these acting classes should have to happen at all.

"Oh, come on, Mushu!" Mulan sighed in exasperation, finally sitting down. "We've been at this for an hour and have made no progress!"

"Oh, don't say that!" Mushu tried to encourage, but the moment Mulan met his eyes, he agreed. "Ok, yeah, never mind, you right, you still ain't no good at this," he said. Mulan gave another heavy, hopeless sigh.

"I just wish I didn't have to do all this!" she confessed. She threw her sword down, sword-carrying having been part of Mushu's acting classes. "I mean, I understand why, but really? Why do I have to be so… mannish? Why can't I just be me? Why can't I just be a girl?"

"Because ain't no self-respecting army gonna have a woman in its ranks!" Mushu replied. "It would be a dishonor on all of China! It would be a dishonor on the general, a dishonor on the emperor, a dishonor on the other soldiers, and a dishonor on all their cows!" he cried. Mulan glared at him, but she knew he was right. She buried her head in her hands.

"This is hopeless!" she despaired. "Nothing I've done feels right! Acting like a man just doesn't feel natural to me. I mean, it's weird enough having to go by a different name and pronouns, but this? To have to actually play a part I wasn't born to be in?" she stopped to shake her head. "I don't know what to do," she said. "Do we have any other ideas?" she turned to Mushu and Cri-Kee, but neither of them had a clue.

It was then that Mushu called an early end to the acting classes.

"Night isn't a very good time for acting classes anyway," he said, trying to soothe his ego. Cri-Kee made a noise of distaste. "Oh, whatchu sayin' about my acting and teaching skills?" the dragon snapped. Cri-Kee chirped again and Mushu gasped, deeply offended. "Oh, no you didn't!"

Mulan, who had to carry these two clowns back to their tent, only sighed. Although the acting classes had been a total failure, there was still a part of her that desperately wanted to be here. She didn't just want to be in the army to protect her father anymore. She wanted to be here just because she wanted to be here. She wanted to fight and help out. She wanted to help save her country! But if being a soldier was her dream now, she was going to have to start acting like one, classes or not.

At last, the awkward little trio was nestled up in bed. Mulan stayed awake for a bit longer, thinking on all that Mushu had taught her. Even if all of it was 100% wrong (seriously, how would a little red dragon that used to be a stone statue in her family temple know anything about being a man?), he still had a valid point that she had to keep trying, so she would. With new determination, Mulan rolled over and shut her eyes. She would always be a woman at heart, but a woman was strong and determined. She would use that girl power to pull through, as paradoxical as that sounded. She would survive her time in the army and she would be a man!

 **AN: We all know the, "Mulan is a metaphor for being a transman" thing, and I believe it too, but I decided to look at it in a new light. What if it was a metaphor for being a transgirl? I mean think, Mulan is forced to act like a gender she doesn't identify with so she can fit in, and in this case, that gender is male. Doesn't that sound like the struggle of a closeted transgirl, or a guy who's into more feminine things? Tell me what you think in the comments. Do you agree with my alternative theory? Or am I reading too much into it?**


	24. Day 24: Liberation Gets Bold Today

"Alright, come on, come on, come on! Shhh!" Iris whispered, urging her friends over with a quick wave. Today, they were going on a dangerous mission, one which not all of them might escape alive, but it was imperative that they try. This mission, dangerous as it was, was an obligation to friends. It was a quest for freedom! Even if only for a little while…

"We gotta make this quick, and we gotta make this quiet!" Iris murmured as soon as her companions were with her. She brought the three of them into a huddle with her and began to whisper instructions. "Storm, you just wait in the car for us and be ready to take off as soon as we're ready. I'm going to play the innocent one and distract our quarries. Clover and Jason, you guys have the most dangerous and imperative task of all…"

The purple-eyed girl trailed off to keep them in suspense, but Jason couldn't wait any longer.

"We get to break them out!" he cried excitedly.

"Shh! Not so loud!" Iris warned, though there was no one around to hear them and, if anything, calling the huddle made them look more suspicious than if Jason had shouted their entire plan.

"Ooops," Jason played along with a laugh, pretending to cover his mouth. Storm, meanwhile, rolled her eyes in disdain, thinking the whole quest to be a bit of an overkill show. But at the same time, she agreed that the mission was important. It was the only reason she'd allowed herself to get suckered into it. Had she not thought it important enough, she would've just stayed home and let Iris deal with it.

"And if we get caught?" Clover asked, blue eyes shining excitedly.

"Then we run like heck! We scatter in all directions and Storm will drive around and pick us up at the next block!" Iris answered with equal verve. "We'll be like thieves in the night! Breaking in and whisking away our imprisoned friends before vanishing like we were never there! And if any of us is caught? Well, then we will still carry on, gladly throwing life and limb to the wind! We will honor whoever falls by finishing the mission regardless of who gets out alive and who does not!"

"We won't leave a single trace behind," Jason agreed solemnly. "And we will finish this quest no matter the cost to us!"

"Ok, does the mission have to be this complicated?" Storm finally interrupted, rolling her eyes. "All we're doing is giving some of our… less than fortunate friends a lift to the pride parade! It's not like any of us are going to die picking them up."

"Of course it does!" Clover answered passionately. "We are fighting for our comrades' freedom!"

"Yeah, but there are so many easier, faster ways to do that," Storm countered. "All this 'give me liberty or give me death' crap is a bit over the top."

"Nonsense!" Iris smacked the blond's arm lightly. "Vive la révolution!" she cried, and Jason and Clover echoed the battle cry.

"Good grief," Storm responded.

"Alright, commence Part One of "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today"!" Iris muttered lowly as she, in the shotgun seat, scoped out the first house on their list. The list, as Storm had mentioned earlier, contained the names of everyone who wanted to go to pride but were unable to due to an inability to travel there themselves. Sometimes it was just misfortune, sometimes it was car troubles, sometimes it was a conflict in schedules, it could be any number of reasons! But the biggest one was living with relatives who didn't want their children exposed to such blatant displays of lust and savagery. Most of the names and addresses were from people unable to go due to their parents, but Iris was having none of that. Today, she and her three friends were going to go from house to house and rescue each and every person from bondage, at least for a little, and take them to Pride. The way she saw it, Pride was something no one should have to miss if they didn't want to, even if it meant defying parents.

Normally, Iris was a huge supporter of always listening to parents, but when it came to parents who tried to suppress or change their child's gender or sexuality, Iris drew the line. It, along with instances of abuse, was the only time Iris condoned defying parents. In times like this, Iris was willing to kick down doors or climb through windows, if only it meant getting to the person stuck in the house and helping them along to Pride. Sure, it was wrong. Sure, it was deceptive and possibly illegal, but could it be worse than sequestering your child and telling them they had to fix themselves? Could it be worse than keeping a child from making supportive friends at Pride? Maybe, but Iris was still firm in her decision. Today, she and her friends were going to bring the less-fortunate to Pride, even if it killed them…

"Wait, "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today"?" Storm snorted as she drove to the first house. "What's with the fancy terms?"

"Take the first letters of the operation and say them out loud," Iris replied. LGBT.

"Stupid pun," Storm rolled her eyes.

"Well, I wanted it to be symbolic!" Iris whined. Storm chuckled dryly. Iris was too much sometimes, but she loved the girl dearly.

"Ah! Here we are! Pull over!" Clover waved suddenly. She was navigating. Storm obeyed, parking on the curb.

"Ok, you all know what to do, right?" Iris whispered eagerly as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Yes!" Jason and Clover chorused, getting hyped up again. Iris turned to the one person who hadn't said anything.

"Ok, fine, whatever," Storm sighed. "Just go before someone asks what we're doing!" she unlocked the doors and her three passengers shot out of the large van faster than a bullet from a gun. Despite herself, Storm laughed. The three were foolish and immature, but they had the best intentions and their cause was a noble one, albeit deceptive. But Storm was honored to have a part in this operation, silly and over-the-top as it was.

"Knock, knock!" Iris sang as she pounded on the door. The first people to answer were a middle-aged couple.

"Hello, who is it?" they asked.

"It's Iris Long! I'm a friend of Hathaway, from school! I was wondering if we could hang out?" Iris put on her best puppy-dog eyes. She knew full well that these people didn't approve of her because she was a 'radical homosexual', but she wasn't asking because she thought it would help Hathaway. Jason and Clover were already sneaking around the backyard and throwing pebbles at Hathaway's window. The goal was to get Hathaway's attention and help Hathaway escape that way, doubling back around to sneak into Storm's van.

"Oh, you!" Hathaway's parents both crinkled their noses as they realized who they were looking at. Iris smiled inwardly. The plan was working perfectly! "You're that little gay girl, aren't you?"

"Yup!" Iris answered cheerfully, not bothering to correct them that she was bisexual.

"Listen, we'd love to have you over, but Hathaway is busy right now, so maybe you should come back another time," Hathaway's father spoke first, his tone said it all. Iris pretended to look hurt, but she quietly accepted his implied threat and backed respectfully away from the door.

"I was just asking," she defended softly, speaking a bit longer to buy Jason, Clover and Hathaway a bit more time.

At last, however, she heard Storm honk. That was the signal meaning that Hathaway, Jason and Clover were successfully out of the house and moving to the corner of the block where Storm would pick them all up, undetected.

"Ah! That's my ride! I better go!" Iris perked up at once and bolted, missing the disapproving sneers Hathaway's parents were giving her.

A few minutes later, Iris was back in the van with her two friends, plus Hathaway.

"Thanks, guys!" Hathaway sounded relieved. Today, an armband with the male gender sign was upon Hathaway's wrist.

"No problem," Clover, Jason and Iris all replied.

"There are suits for you in the way back," Storm added.

"Really?" Hathaway's face lit up like the sun and Storm nodded. "Oh, thank you all so much!" he looked close to tears, but that was because he'd been feeling like a boy for a week now and it was really hard to act on that when his parents still forced him to look and act like a girl all the time, regardless of how he felt. He wished he could control his gender such that these changes only happened when he was in a safe space, because there were days when he felt more like a girl and he wished those days happened when he was stuck at home. Then he would be able to act girly easily.

While Hathaway clambered into the way back, where suits and boyish clothes did indeed wait for him, Iris checked the next name.

"Ellie Drake," she said. She felt her heart sink a little. Ellie was still very young, a few years younger than Iris, but she was already certain that she was a transgirl. It was why Iris had her name written down as 'Ellie', despite it technically being 'Elias'. Ellie's parents were a bit better than Hathaway's, being fine with gay rights, but they still didn't like the idea of their child wanting to be a daughter instead of a son. It was not what they had given birth to so, in their eyes, it was not correct. Besides, the way they saw it, Ellie was still a young child, only in middle school. How was she to know what she was? But the way Iris saw it, it didn't matter. No one ever asked a cis person if they were sure they were cis, so why ask a trans person? Besides, if a trans person really felt so out of place in the gender they were assigned to that they were actively trying to change it, there was no way anyone could say "Oh, it's just a phase!" How could it be 'just a phase' if people were losing sleep and lives over it? So even though Iris had to admit that Ellie was young, she figured it didn't hurt to let Ellie to act the way she wanted. It didn't hurt anyone, so why worry?

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Drake!" Iris greeted Ellie's parents innocently.

"Hello?" neither of them recognized her.

"I'm Iris Long! I'm one of the peer tutors for… Elias," Iris had to stop from saying 'Ellie'. The only time it wasn't ok to use someone's preferred name or pronouns was if it outed them or put them in danger, like now. Now, Ellie's parents knew all about the whole trans thing, but they refused to believe it. Bringing it up again would anger them, so Iris was careful to use the name 'Elias', at least for the next five minutes.

"Ah! What's up?" the Drakes greeted Iris warmly, having no idea that she knew about Ellie being trans.

"I was wondering if he wanted to hang out. Grab some lunch?" Iris put on her sweet face again. This time, unlike with Hathaway, the Drakes agreed quickly. This meant Jason and Clover didn't even have to try and find Ellie's window to rescue her. Instead, they exited the premises at once while the Drakes went to go find their kiddo.

Another few minutes later, the group was driving along again.

"Hey, Ellie!" Hathaway greeted, having met the girl at an LGBT support group meeting they both attended once.

"Hathaway!" Ellie smiled. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"Of course!" Hathaway laughed. "These guys even got me the right clothing!" he plucked at his suit, having covered it in rainbow stickers he'd saved up and hoarded over the past month of June.

"We got you dresses," Iris agreed.

"Or you can use mine," Hathaway pointed to the pile of cloth thrown casually into the back of the car.

"Oh! Goodie!" now it was Ellie's turn to don her Pride gear.

The third person on the list was Princeton Cross. He was, like Ellie, in middle school and transgender. This time, however, he was totally out, parents entirely accepting of who he was. The only reason he was on the list was because his fathers were out of town and his sisters had other engagements. This meant all he needed from Iris and company was a ride. He didn't need liberation. Because of that, when Iris pulled up to his house, he was already waiting patiently on the porch.

"Hey guys!" he grinned as he vaulted into the car.

"Hi Princeton," everyone else replied.

"That was easy," Jason joked as Storm pulled out of his driveway and onto the fourth person of the list.

The fourth person was Robert Dornan. His family was a lot like Hathaway's. They still weren't as overtly anti-gay, but it was clear that the topic made them uncomfortable and that they would've preferred a cis-het world. There was nothing wrong with having that dream, it was just that… well… the world _wasn't_ cis-het, so while wishing for a cis-het world wasn't a problem, acting like it was a possibility was. Everyone who knew Robert's family understood what that family wanted, but they all wished the family would come to accept that homosexuality and gender variety was real and was not going to go anywhere just because it was hidden in a closet. They were doing more harm than good by trying to deny the existence of queer people, even if they weren't outright hostile.

"Stop Four on "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today"," Storm said as she pulled to a stop at the base of Robert's insanely fancy house.

"Alright, let's go, go, go!" Iris leapt from the car and sprinted up the driveway, Clover and Jason in tow. It was very much a repeat of the fiasco with Hathaway's family. Iris went to the door and innocently asked the Dornans to allow Robert out to play, but they were a bit reluctant, suspecting that Iris might be trying to allow their perfect son to do something unmanly. Iris pretended to heed their warnings and leave, but at the same time, Clover and Jason were busy in the back.

"I can't believe you guys actually came!" Robert cried happily as they tossed a grappling hook up to him. He managed to hook it to the sill and then slide down from his bedroom, flicking his wrist to unhook the grappling hook.

"We did, now let's roll back on out!" Jason whispered. With Clover in the lead, the two boys sprinted from the yard, climbing over several fences to reach the street corner where Storm would pick them up presently.

"Alright! Here we go!" the other passengers greeted Robert as he squeezed into the van.

"Hey! Cool dress, Ellie! Where'd you get it?" he asked, surprised how it fit her size despite knowing her family didn't accept her being trans.

"Iris brought it for me," Ellie smiled at the tiny brunette sitting a few seats ahead.

"There's some for you back there!" Iris promised, turning around to face Robert.

"Yay!" Robert immediately dove into the backseat. He was a cis-male, but he enjoyed wearing dresses. He was just really into fashion and clothing. It was something his family considered to be too girly for him, however, and he was stuck wearing suits and tuxes when at home. Now, he enjoyed wearing those too, but he was going to wear a dress today just because it was a lot harder for him, as a cis-male, to find an excuse to wear a dress as opposed to a suit. This was a rare chance he got, wearing a dress without fear.

Robert wished dearly that gender roles for clothing didn't have to exist, but at the same time, he understood that they did and they did make a few people happy, such as Ellie. She always looked so at peace with herself whenever she got to wear girly things just because, even though clothing didn't technically have gender, the connotations were very real and they weren't always bad. Maybe in Robert's case, they were bad, because they kept him from always wearing what he wanted to wear, but for Ellie's case, they were good. They helped reaffirm her gender. They helped her feel more like a woman, even if dresses weren't inherently womanly. So Robert understood the importance of gendered clothing.

"Guess it doesn't matter today, either way," he added to himself as he pulled on a particularly long and flowy dress. He liked how the skirt of the dress was cut and folded on itself and thought briefly that, if he were able to do so, he would've totally sewn some strips of rainbow cloth onto the folds of the skirt to make it look like a rainbow.

The next person in "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" was someone who was just like Robert. Xyr name was Rowan and xe identified as genderqueer. Xe wasn't exactly sure which branch xe fell under, but xe just knew that xe felt and looked like both man and woman at the same time. Xe dressed accordingly, wearing a dress with a tuxedo jacket over it. Xe called it a 'drexedo' and xe looked fine as all get out in it. Xyr long brown hair was combed back and, when xe got into the van, xe began threading rainbow streamers through it, with Robert and Ellie's help. Iris also revealed that she'd brought some makeup with her. She didn't personally wear it, but she figured that some of the others might. In the end, Clover and Jason were the only takers, funnily enough. Jason didn't usually dress in a feminine manner, but he would wear some basic makeup now and then, like foundation or contour, though he'd never gone into the full-blown blush, lipstick and eye-liner/eye-shadow level. But that was mostly because he was too lazy to figure out how to do all of that. But Rowan actually did know, so Jason agreed to try some eye-liner just this once, but he had no intent of going in full-blown.

There were a few more people on Iris' "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" list and, with each of them, Iris would continually distract the parents while Clover and Jason would help their children climb out of their windows and then over, through or around fences while Storm would continue to drive forward, picking up every single passenger. In the car, clothing was swapped and binders were handed around to those who needed them. Makeup and jewelry was taken by almost everyone and the whole car was suddenly alive with laughter and noise. It was a very hot and crowded trip over to the parade, but it was so worth it! There was just so much positive energy in the car that, despite the overcrowded space, nobody was uncomfortable.

"And here we are!" Storm sighed in relief, parking her car and being the first out of it.

"Woo hoo! "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" was a success and we all survived!" Iris cheered as she was the second one out. Everyone else echoed the cheer and dresses and rainbow flags left the large vehicle.

"But it's not over," Storm reminded. "We still have to get everyone cleaned up and home at a decent time."

"Oh, right," Iris' shoulders lowered and everyone else instantly looked concerned. But Storm's grim expression quickly faded into a smile.

"And there is actually a middle step to "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" that we forgot," she said.

"What is it?" asked Iris.

"We've got to actually enjoy ourselves here!" the tall blond gestured to the gates of the event and every face brightened again.

"I'll race you all inside!" Princeton declared, elbowing by Ellie and Clover to run ahead.

"Oh, that little rat is going down!" Hathaway laughed, then he took off running after the younger boy.

"No fair! You all got head starts!" Emma, the passenger immediately after Rowan, cried, then she took off after Princeton and Hathaway.

"Well come on! We don't want to be left behind!" the last passenger, Maggie, gestured to the others. She had actually been able to sneak over to Emma's house before Iris arrived, making it one less stop on Iris' "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" list. The reason she'd snuck over to Emma's was simple. There was a very particular piece of clothing Maggie wanted to bring with her, but it was something she knew her parents wouldn't want her to have around the house. It was a kind of scanty outfit that was very tight-fitting. It was tight enough, in fact, to show off not only the size of her chest, but the bulge in her pants.

That was right, Maggie was actually intersex, though she did identify as female. Because of that, her parents sometimes tried to forget that she did technically have male parts and tried to see her as 100% female. This was fine with her, but she still wished her parents weren't so in denial about her being intersex because it made her feel like they were kind of grossed out by the fact that she had a male sex organ. It wasn't her fault. So that was what her outfit was. It was made to tell the world that she was in fact someone with both parts, but that happened sometimes and even though it was natural to chose one gender to stick with, that didn't mean all traces of the other one had to be erased, ignored or forgotten.

The young woman led the rest of the large group through the gates where those who had run ahead were waiting, surrounded by loud music and flags of every shape and size, patterns and stripes adorning them.

"Well! Here we are!" Iris shouted over the music. "Let Part Two of "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" begin!"

"Woo hoo!" everyone else echoed her call, then they all went racing through the park together, thoughts and cares being left behind at least for a little while. Part Three, sneaking everyone back in, was an adventure that would have to wait for a few hours more.

 **AN: Just more fun showing off new and old Denbar kids. Also, this is based on the fact that I almost snuck a guy out to Pride once because his parents were those religious zealots. He did ultimately back out and that was fine, but we had the plan all laid out and I was ready to go full "Operation: Liberation Gets Bold Today" on it.**

 **(Side Note: As stated in the story, I don't typically condone this kind of sneaking out behind parents' backs, but, in this case, I would. And even though I know it's still wrong, I really don't care. Everyone deserves to go to Pride. Besides, I can't be the only one who's ever snuck out before or gone and done something while telling parents that they were going to do something else. Tell me about your sneak-outs in the comments! I promise I won't tattle).**


	25. Day 25: The French Pantheon

Grantaire might've been an insatiable drunkard, but he was still a Parisian student. Because of that, although it was seldom that his head wasn't in a bottle or in a gutter, he did still remember a few of the lessons his fancy education had given him. One lesson in particular was about the Greek gods. And although the Greek gods were numerous, too many to name or remember, a certain few did stick out to Grantaire and they never left him, even after he'd downed his fifth bottle. Those select few Greek gods were the only ones he'd talk about with something akin to belief. But why? Why would the skeptic who refused to believe even in the Christian God, or just about anything else in life, believe in only a select few of the Greek ones? Well, because, in his mind's eye, those gods were real, and they walked and talked among him every day. It really _was_ the Greek pantheon, alive and well, just under a different name: The Friends of the ABC. They were the French Pantheon, the Greek pantheon reborn!

The way drunken old Grantaire saw it, the Friends of the ABC were the new Greek gods, their little room over the tavern being their Olympus and the seats and tables at which they sat being their thrones. Every student there was a god, one of the pantheon and a vital life-force for the others. Even Grantaire saw himself as such, thinking that he was just as much a god as any of them. And, as he watched these gods in student bodies sitting on creaky wooden thrones above the streets of Paris, above the world itself in order to judge it, he could name every single one.

Of course, Grantaire himself was Dionysus, God of Wine. Given how the young man was now on his fifth bottle and barely awake, it wasn't hard to see why he had given himself this particular honor. As the liquid fire burned sweetly down his throat, he grinned to himself. Drunk or not, he was still an Olympian God and that was no small thing. He was still part of the pantheon, still part of the powers that were, even if he lacked faith in all of those powers and their ability to actually do anything. But even if the powers that were, were going to ultimately be useless and fade into history like they had centuries before, Grantaire still admired the Olympus around him. There really were so many similarities…

There was the happy student of medicine, Joly. The unattached and unknowable Marius, who was as restless, angry, changing and impossible to read as the murky and stormy sea. There was the wild and free little sprite known as Gavroche, who feared and bowed to nothing except himself. There was the heart who kept the Friends together and brought new members in, named Courfeyrac, who also greatly enjoyed bedding as many women as he could, 'marrying' them all. There was the mother-hen who, despite being an orphan, had adopted the world as his own, it was Feuilly. Then there was the innocent Jean Prouvaire, loved by all and as sweet as could be, so childish and pure despite being their age. Then there was the loud-mouthed, large-hearted, free-spirited Bahorel, traveling between the Friends and various other groups around Paris, acting as a conduit for communication and a good laugh. And next came Bossuet, who preferred the name Lesgle and was unlucky as could be, nothing ever going right except for his smile and humors, which never failed him once. And then there was Combeferre, wise and calm Combeferre, the second in command and diplomat of the group, slow to anger and quick to intelligent discussion and always at the right hand of Enjolras.

Enjolras. Despite the hazy drunkenness clouding his mind, Grantaire studied the handsome fellow closely. There were a few differences between the Greek pantheon and this French one. The first was that not every single god matched up or was present and a few had been swapped out. For example, the above mentioned stood as Apollo, Poseidon, Pan, Hera, Demeter, Artemis, Hermes, Hephaestus and Athena. Of course, he was still Dionysus. This pantheon was just missing Zeus, Hades, Hestia, Aphrodite and Ares and had instead included Pan and, by virtue of the layout, made Athena, in Combeferre, the Queen of the Gods (or made Feuilly, as Hera, the second strongest student, however you chose to see it).

And as for lacking the King of the Gods? Well… Perhaps some would assume right away that Enjolras was Zeus, being the leader of the Friends and the strongest and most just, but Grantaire could never bring himself to see it that way. For one thing, Zeus was infamous for having many, many, many, many, many affairs. It was common knowledge that Enjolras disdained such things and it was common rumor that he had never even held a woman's hand or kissed her cheek or seen so much as one _inch_ of skin. As for Hades? Well, as serious, intimidating and almost dark as Enjolras could be, his words spoke of new life, not of death or finality. And he was no Hestia because although, as leader, he was their head and he united them all, he was still no home. He was far too cold. And, like with Zeus, Enjolras could not be Aphrodite. But perhaps he could be Ares…

In Grantaire's hazy head, when watching Enjolras speak of revolution, war and freedom, it always felt far more like what Ares would say than what Zeus would say. Zeus already had total control over his world. Enjolras did not. He was still fighting for it, and fighting was what Ares did best as the God of War. Like Ares, Enjolras was aggressive, fierce, powerful, intimidating, commanding and bent on victory in combat. How many days had he spoken of battle? How many nights had he spent pouring over plans and maps? How many people had he tried to enlist and how many arms had he stolen or built? Enjolras was no Zeus, he was Ares! Even now, as Grantaire watched the beautiful young man speak passionately about the future, Ares seemed to stand right behind the young man, encouraging him and aiding his war plans. Enjolras, like a general, led the troops and built the barricades. He was Ares, a God of War.

"If only," the drunkard slurred to himself. "If only the God of War would have use for the God of Wine," then he paused to take another large swig of his drink. "If only handsome and mighty Ares might ever look upon twisted and ugly Dionysus with need or affection. Then perhaps he could be happy…" though to which 'he' Grantaire was referring to was unclear, even in his mind. But what _was_ clear to Grantaire, in that moment, was how much he loved Enjolras.

It was a deep, passionate love. Grantaire truly idolized Enjolras, seeing the young Ares as his knight in shining armor. Enjolras was a perfect mix of everything Grantaire wanted to have and wanted to be. He was strong, brave, proud, calm, forward, charming, commanding, beautiful, powerful, determined, faithful and moral. Grantaire was a dirty mess, a wad of scum in the sewers, compared to Enjolras. This thought grieved the drunkard to no end. It was part of the reason he drank. Along with his general enjoyment of alcohol, Grantaire realized that if he drank enough to put himself to sleep, his Ares would almost always show up in his dreams and that was something worth the hangover next time his eyes opened to see his Ares just as unbothered and disgusted by him as before.

"What a statue!" Grantaire mumbled next, both scorning Enjolras' almost heartless attention and praising his sculptured features. He held so much raw, masculine beauty, a perfect jaw, a sharp and beautiful eye, gorgeous golden locks that looked thick and soft as the finest silk. His skin was pale and unblemished. He had muscles and an upright back. Enjolras really did look everything like a Greek god, especially when speaking of the world he wanted to rebuild and redeem. It took Grantaire's breath away and made him all the more ashamed when he looked in the mirror at his own palked and ugly face, constantly sullen and empty. Unlike Enjolras, Grantaire had no purpose. It was part of the reason Grantaire admired and adored Enjolras so much. Enjolras had so much fire and purpose, it lit up Grantaire's cold and empty life and made him want to be so much more than he was. Enjolras _became_ Grantaire's purpose, and what a wonderful feeling a purpose was! What Grantaire wouldn't give for five minutes of Enjolras' time, just to show the heartless man how much he really cared!

But Ares only associated with his fellow soldiers. Grantaire was too drunk to even hold a gun, let alone shoot one, let alone hit a target. Ares would never associate with such a disgraceful soldier. But as Grantaire continued to think about his Greek lessons, he did remember that there was one person Ares did associate without outside of the battlefield, whom he loved very much. Ironically enough, it was one of the pantheon who had no student equivalent. It was Aphrodite.

Yes, everyone knew of the affair between the God of War and Goddess of Love. Although it was scandalous, it was faithful and it was renowned. Aphrodite seemed the only one to truly understand Ares, the only one to see behind the helmet he wore and the bloody sword he held. She was the only one to get that close to him. Not even Ares' brothers in arms knew him as well as the Goddess of Love did. It was strange but it was real. Grantaire would've liked very much to be Enjolras' Aphrodite, but that was impossible. First off, Enjolras felt nothing for anyone. Second off, Grantaire was neither a woman, nor was he pretty. The man sulked into his bottle. But the longer he stared at his reflection in the dark and distorted glass, Enjolras' voice still buzzing pleasantly in his ear, something occurred to Grantaire.

The gods were known for being able to change appearances at will. Although it was common for Ares to be rugged and Aphrodite to be beautiful, it was not a law. In addition, the God of War and Goddess of Love were more than just their appearances. They were their ideologies. Enjolras was Ares not because he looked like Ares, but because he _acted_ like Ares, warring and strong. And Grantaire, or maybe his drunken and spinning head, began to think that maybe he could be Aphrodite. After all, everyone knew love was painful and miserable, rife with strife and hardly all fun and games. There were no sweet kisses or playful tugs in true love. There was only sacrifice and suffering, but a constant desire for more. Grantaire, as a drunkard hopelessly in love with a man way out of his league, understood this all too well. If this were the case, Grantaire could very well be Aphrodite and if that were the case, he could very well still have a chance with his Enjolras Ares. If only he could just get that God of War to look in his direction and see not a God of Wine, but a God of Love.

Grantaire imagined a life where he stood at Enjolras' right, and not Combeferre. He could see himself, upright and smart, leaning against Enjolras' narrow but powerful shoulders, advising and aiding him, Enjolras nodding in agreement and even affection. It was a beautiful dream. The Gods of War and Love, happily entwined as one, because war and love weren't too different. One could cause the other, or be the outcome. They could work together or work alone, but still yield a similar result. And as silly as it sounded, Grantaire's drunken mind finally roved over to marriage. Although he had no desire for such frivolity, he supposed it was something a God of Love ought to think about. If it were with Enjolras, it would be strange. Enjolras seemed to feel no romantic or sexual inclination to anyone!

Grantaire then realized that it was June. This month was named after Hera's roman counterpart and Hera was a goddess of marriage. Perhaps she would bless Grantaire and, against all odds, in this month to the goddess of marriage, Grantaire would spark something with Enjolras as Aphrodite had with Ares all those centuries ago. If having a husband did not stop Aphrodite from pursuing Ares, daring to _have_ a husband would not stop Grantaire. June was a powerful month and Grantaire could feel it in his bones that this one was going to be ever more powerful yet, changing lives in drastic and unimaginable ways. This June was going to bring something very large and very great to him as the God of Love.

"Grantaire! Put that bottle down!" Enjolras thundered, startling Grantaire awake. He was the only person in all of France with the power to not only wake Grantaire up from a drunken stupor, but to actively get the man to put his bottle down. Grantaire's body acted without his mind and he set the nearly empty drink down, pulling his hand away.

"We are trying to discuss important matters and here you are, muttering to yourself like a fool! You are a dishonor and disgrace!" the young Ares shook his head, golden curls swaying as he shut his sapphire eyes. His words were harsh, sharp as his tongue, but after spending the past half hour listening to Grantaire mumble about gods, love and war, Enjolras could take it no longer. "If you must ramble, ramble to your pillow! Go sleep off your drunkenness and come back when you understand the severity of our situation! Already, some of our allies are backing out of their promises and we are low on weapons despite this fact! Unless you have an idea about what we should do, take your drink and leave!"

Enjolras finished his cruel speech with his eyes open again, flashing. The whole of Olympus fell silent in fear and anticipation. They had angered the God of War, a dangerous mistake. In times like this, Enjolras was Zeus and Ares combined, a terrifying and wrathful sight.

"Enjolras, you wound me greatly," Grantaire told his comrade simply. He was the only one unshaken by Enjolras' wrath. On the contrary, it almost felt nice, because it meant that Ares was finally acknowledging him. Maybe his theory about being Aphrodite wasn't so wrong after all?

"And you wound me as well, sir," Enjolras spoke gravely. "Every passing second is another bullet we could've made or another life we could've saved. Now please, unless you have something constructive to say, leave!" the young man pointed to the stairs, away from Olympus and back down to the lowly world of the mortals.

"As you wish," Grantaire stood to go, nearly falling back over until Courfeyrac and Combeferre helped him up again. Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire felt a very real pain pierce his heart. "As you wish," he repeated, far more gentle now. "But if you should ever need me…"

"I will be sure to send for a wine bottle," Enjolras finished. Grantaire's wounded expression deepened, but Enjolras had already turned away, returning to his plans for war. Grantaire was hardly aware of Courfeyrac helping him down the stairs, head still spinning with Enjolras.

"Goodnight, friend," Courfeyrac told the drunkard as they finally reached a place for him to sleep everything off.

"Goodnight, friend," Grantaire responded emptily. He climbed into his bed, eyes unseeing everything except for a brilliant flash of red topped with gold and covered by two small sapphires that pierced the very depth of his soul, right where his truest and only love existed.

"Oh, Enjolras, how you wound me so!" Grantaire repeated, but this time, there was no one to hear him. The God of War and Thunder had wounded him with something sharper than any sword or arrow, and now the God of Wine and Love was unable to do anything but lie alone in pain. Much like the Greek pantheon, this new French one was no stranger to drama and in-fighting, even between two people who adored each other more than their own lives or thrones. Grantaire could only pray to the Greek gods that June would be merciful unto them all and that maybe, just maybe, the story of Ares and Aphrodite would find its happily ever after in them.

 **AN: Just some philosophy and some Greek pantheon because I love Greek gods and I love Les Mis (both the book and musical) and the Friends aren't nearly as talked about as they should be (in the musical, at least). What did you think? Who would you cast in which roles and why? Tell me in a review! Do you think Grantaire could be a God of Love for Enjolras? Also, how many of you have read the book? And do you prefer it to the musical, or not?**

 **(Side note: I've always considered Enjolras either asexual or demi, possibly for Grantaire. And Grantaire is either gay or demi, for Enjolras).**


	26. Day 26: Coffee Kisses

Westford Mapp and Bartholomew "Bert" Barnaby had been dating for almost a year now, having met during some special science talk their university was giving. Even though Westford was only a sophomore and Bert a graduate student, the two still grew so close that they became lovers. Now here they were, on one of their off-days in spring, and they were headed out for a little coffee date. How cheesy and romantic, right? "Seriously, could you be any more of a Basic White Girl?" Bert scoffed as Westford sipped his tall coffee frappuccino with skim milk.

"Excuse you, sir, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my choice of drink," Westford spoke importantly, puffing up his chest. "It doesn't make me any more or less of a person to drink this!" he intentionally took a long sip to prove his point.

"That may be so," Bert laughed at his boyfriend's antics. "But it still makes you a BWG."

"And there's nothing wrong or shameful with that!" Westford agreed. "I would wear that label with pride because it's who I am. We need to stop shaming people for their tastes just because they've become a stereotype or a trend! After all, I have a lot of 'BWG' friends and they're the sweetest people on the planet. There's nothing wrong with being a BWG."

"Even sweeter than their extra-sugar-extra-cream-extra-espresso-skim-milk-no-foam-pumpkin-spice-latte-mochas-grandes?" Bert joked. Westford only glared at him, taking another deep draft of his caffeinated beverage. His look was so serious that Bert began to bellow with laughter. To him, it was just so hard to take someone as scrawny and adorkable as Westford seriously, especially when he was glaring over a cup of fancy BWG coffee while debating about what constituted a BWG in the first place. It was such a hilarious sight!

"Oh, Westford! My love, you're killing me!" Bert wheezed. "Do you want me to take a picture of your cup and post it online for you? You can keep sitting there, brooding and looking all hipster and mysterious if you'd like!"

"Well, just try it then!" Westford insisted, pushing the cup over to Bert. Unlike Westford, Bert hadn't even bought any coffee, choosing instead to drink a soda that he had snuck in. He just wasn't a coffee person.

"And turn into a BWG?" Bert pretended to look horrified.

"Bert, you are already basic and white and you act really girly at times," Westford reminded his boyfriend. He knew full well that Bert pretending to think about his masculine pride was nothing more than a façade to make him mad. Bert didn't give a darn about his masculinity and, contrary to what they were arguing about right now, Bert had done a lot of other BWG things in his day too. He just wasn't a coffee person, so it was the one thing he could joke about without being a hypocrite. Other than that, though, Bert really didn't see any of this as a threat to his masculinity, he just liked make Westford mad. Wasn't that what lovers were for?

"And just how many pumps of sugar, caramel, pumpkin and espresso is in that thing?" Bert snorted, pushing the cup back to Westford.

"Not a lot," Westford answered honestly, choosing to overlook his boyfriend's sarcasm. "I asked them to go easy on everything."

"Ah! Of course you did!" Bert snickered. "You hipsters need your skinny frame and of course the BWG in you won't drink more than 20 calories."

"Bert!" Westford pushed the cup back over to Bert, but Bert returned it again, continuing their little game.

Westford sighed in exasperation. He really did love Bert and these petty games were pretty fun sometimes, but this one was just a little bit of a sore spot for Westford. It was because, although everything Bert was saying did have some grain of truth, Westford still hated hearing those BWG stereotypes. True or not, they honestly did demean someone's lifestyle and Westford never condoned that sort of thing, even if it came from other BWGs themselves. And the same went for hipsters. Westford just hated making fun of anyone's lifestyle, even if it was all only light-hearted humor. It made him feel bad. That judgmental person was not him, even if the rest of the world made the same jokes. Now, Westford wasn't sure if he identified as a hipster or BWG, the first having a definition that was far too vague and the second being too unlike him because the only thing he really shared in common with BWG was the love of coffee, but that didn't matter. Westford didn't need to be part of those groups to find those jokes a bit mean. He never felt personally attacked, he was just a bit too considerate of others sometimes and didn't always know when to take a joke. Bert, however, more than made up for that.

"Just try it, please?" Westford begged again.

"Nope!" Bert grinned cheerfully. He had nothing against anyone, he just made the BWG jokes because he knew it bothered Westford and he absolutely loved to make that adorkable little guy squirm! It was so funny to watch him get all flustered and try to defend his sisters. He was just so justice-oriented and it really was quite beautiful. It was part of the reason Bert had fallen for him in the first place. Westford was just so good and pure and righteous that it was impossible not to love and admire him and his moral character. It was just funny because Westford didn't exactly seem like the hero type, just because of how shy and socially awkward he was. But at the same time, what Westford lacked in body, emotion and mind, he made up for in heart and determination.

"Please," Westford repeated. This time, he allowed his blue eyes to widen in the look of a puppy's.

"Oh no, not the puppy eyes!" Bert groaned, but Westford only continued to stare deeply at his boyfriend, still pushing the cup towards him. Then Westford proceeded to add in the quivering lip and tilted head. "No!" Bert wailed, but it was too late. One look and he was sold. As much as Bert liked to think of Westford being that adorkable loser, he also knew full well how capable and strong Westford could be. He had a lot going for him, even if it wasn't obvious. Westford, as silly as he was, was nobody's fool, not even Bert's. He knew exactly how to use this too. He used his weakness as strength, using people's underestimation of him against them. He would let them call him a crybaby and a coward because he knew that nobody could resist the face of a crybaby and everyone always loved to soothe a coward. Westford knew how to play dirty when necessary. His puppy face won every single time!

"Pretty please?" Westford asked, smile turning wicked as Bert finally relented.

"Fine. I'll give it a taste! Just give me the stupid coffee," the larger, older man grunted. He brought the cup up to his lips, then paused. "Wait a sec. I have to grab a napkin in case this makes me puke a little," he said.

"Whatever," Westford replied, giving the man consent to grab some napkins. Bert stood from his seat and pretended to walk over to the napkins. He grabbed a couple before returning to the seat, but instead of sitting down or picking up the cup, he walked right over to Westford, towering over the skinnier boy. Westford frowned up at him.

"Well?" Westford gestured to the cup. "You said you were going to drink!"

"No I didn't," Bert smirked.

"What? Yes you did!" Westford snapped indignantly.

"No I didn't," Bert repeated. Then he added, "I said I would _taste_ it!"

"Well what does that have to-?" Westford began, but before he could finish, Bert had tilted his chin up and kissed him full on the lips.

For a moment, Westford's entire body went blank and it felt like every nerve in his body had relocated to his lips. Suddenly, a surge of feeling shot through his lips and all he could feel was Bert, kissing him. Everything else was numb, except for his mouth. For a moment, Westford couldn't move or think, taken by so much surprise by this very intimate act, that all he could do was sit there as limp as a ragdoll. He could feel Bert smile into his mouth. Bert was very used to such reactions and it made him laugh every single time. It didn't matter how long he and Westford had been together. It didn't matter how many times they'd kissed or touched before. Westford still got so easily flustered, like the blushing little schoolboy he was, and Bert loved it! He continued to kiss his lover, waiting for Westford to finally return to his senses and start kissing back.

At last, it happened, and Westford found himself able to control his body and mind again. Once it finally sank in that Bert was kissing him, Westford felt a flash of giddiness, followed by a flash of feistiness. Bert was the only one who could instill any boldness into Westford and now, Bert was about to see just how bold Westford could be. Westford started off just by kissing back, but then he made the first move and deepened it, slowly putting his tongue into Bert's mouth. Bert's eyes widened in surprise. In the same way Westford was so easy to fluster, Bert was so easy to surprise. It didn't matter how long he and Westford had been together. It didn't matter how many times they'd kissed or touched before. Bert was still always surprised when Westford pulled a move like that. Bert suddenly felt Westford's hand squeeze his rear. Holy crap.

"Alright! Get a room you two!" a loud voice interrupted the two men and they broke apart awkwardly. Suddenly, all of Westford's shyness had returned and that bold boy from just a mere two seconds ago was nowhere to be seen. Bert, himself, was still a bit surprised by the turn of events, and when he saw some frowning middle-aged worker looking at them with her arms crossed, he waved apologetically.

"Sorry, ma'am!" he said. "My boyfriend just wanted me to taste some of his coffee!"

"Bert!" Westford slapped Bert's leg, but to both of their surprise, the scowling woman began to smile. Westford and Bert gave her a confused look so the woman gestured behind herself to a woman about her age. Then she held out her left hand. The boys caught a glimpse of gold on her fourth finger, and then she made a kissing motion as she pointed back to the woman behind her.

"If you want a taste-test, you can come get an empty cup," she said.

"Next time, I promise," Bert replied. The woman only smirked at him before turning back to the kitchen. Bert sat down with a heavy breath.

"Now do you see why I don't like PDA?" Westford hissed, still embarrassed about getting yelled at in public.

"Nope!" Bert grinned. "We just met a kindred spirit, after all!"

"Oh, come on Bert, be serious!" Westford complained. "Just because she fell in love from coffee kisses doesn't mean we need to reenact it!"

"Perhaps not," Bert agreed. "But can you honestly say you didn't enjoy it?"

"Well, no," Westford admitted, scowl fading into a cute little smile of embarrassed pleasure.

"See, I told you!" Bert looked satisfied with himself.

"Told me what?" Westford asked. "Wasn't it I who asked you to try the coffee? And speaking of which, does this make you a BWG too?"

"If I get these coffee kisses again with you, I swear I will be the basic-est, whitest, girliest BWG to ever live," Bert vowed, and Westford could tell he was dead serious. He smiled as he took another sip of his wonderful coffee. Bert chuckled at the sight and raised his soda in reply. The two then met in the middle, toasting their little promise for more coffee kisses in the future.

Meanwhile, the employee from earlier watched them exchange this little promise and she smiled before turning to her own wife.

"Do you remember when we were that age?" she asked, gesturing to the schoolboys.

"I do," her wife replied with a smile to match. "It does my heart good to see the romance of the young."

"Doesn't it?" the employee agreed. "Now what do you say I whip us up some coffee of our own?"

"You are so immature!" her wife laughed. "But I accept your offer!" then the employee laughed excitedly before sliding to the back of the store to grab some of their favorite coffee beans, her wife watching her go with an affectionate smile.

 **AN: Just a stupid little coffee fic because those seem pretty popular for fluffy OTP prompts too. Also, I hope no one took any real offense to the 'BWG' jokes. I sincerely only meant them as humor, but if they came off as rude or demeaning, tell me. Like Westford stated, I really don't care how much of a BWG you are. How you like your coffee is how you like your coffee and I make no judgment. (Though I don't like coffee myself and I had to look up some stereotypically BWG drinks and how different coffees were made because I'm a loser, LOL).**


	27. Day 27: Snowball Fight

"La vie boheme!" the final strains of the wild melody drifted into the snowy night sky as the small pack of rag-tag friends exited Life Café.

"Woo! Hoo! What a wild ride!" Maureen was skipping ahead of the group, even daring to do a few cartwheels despite how cold the ground was.

"Wasn't it? Wasn't it?" Angel agreed. She tried to do a cartwheel as well, but ended up landing on her side instead of her feet.

"Whoa, there! Careful, darling," Tom helped his lover to her feet.

"Oooh, thanks honey," Angel swayed a little as she stood. "I must've had more to drink than I thought."

"That makes two of us," Mimi laughed.

"Three of us," Roger added a moment later. Mimi laughed again as she turned to look him in the eyes. Tonight was easily shaping up to be one of the best any of them could remember, at least in recent memory. First, there was the surprisingly successful protest that Maureen led, strange as it had been. Then of course, there was the whole La Vie Boheme at Life Café. The entire café, patrons and employees alike, ended up jumping into the fun, singing, dancing and cavorting like the free-spirited savages of the streets that they all were. Even Shy-Guy Mark and Uptight Joanne managed to have fun that night, joining in the song and dance.

"What are we going to do now?" Mimi demanded. "I'm far too hyped to go to bed!"

"Do you just want to have a bit of a walk-around?" Tom suggested.

"In this weather?" Joanne snuggled deeper into her jacket.

"I can keep help you with that, Pookie," Maureen grinned, then she bent over and picked up a handful of snow.

"Oh no, absolutely-!" before Joanne could warn her girlfriend any further, the hotheaded woman had thrown the wad of snow. "MAUREEN JOHNSON!" Joanne yelped as the cold doused her face. Maureen, and everyone else, roared with laughter.

For a moment, Joanne could only stand there, anger and disbelief etched into her face. Then, she narrowed her eyes.

"So. Is that how you want to play it?" she asked, but too quietly for anyone to hear. Instead, she waited until Maureen had finished laughing.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Pookie," Maureen pretended to look genuinely apologetic, widening her eyes and pushing out her lower lip in a look of sympathy. She took several steps closer to Joanne and Joanne let her, still wearing that impassive and unreadable expression.

"Promise me you won't give me a cold shoulder?" Maureen asked in that same cooing tone.

"Oooh, honey, no!" Angel pretended to cringe at Maureen's terrible pun. "Even Mark can do better than that!"

"Hey!" Mark pouted at Angel, but Angel only shrugged while Roger, Mimi and Tom all laughed at Mark's expense.

"Puns aside," Joanne interrupted as Maureen continued to step closer to her. "I will not forgive you unless you can prove to me that you really are sorry!" she crossed her arms.

"You really are cold!" Maureen cried, but underneath, she only knew this was Joanne's way of keeping their little game of cat and mouse going. She approached Joanne until they were almost kissing.

"I'm not nearly as cold as you," Joanne replied calmly. Maureen could practically feel the other woman's lips moving because of how close they were. Before Maureen could initiate any kind of kiss, however, a bitter cold bit at her legs.

"Hey!" Maureen jumped back and looked at her legs to see that Joanne had kicked some snow onto her while she was too busy focusing on Joanne's soft lips. She looked back up just in time to see a smirking Joanne before her world went very white and very cold.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold!" Joanne declared proudly as Maureen stumbled back.

"Why you little!" Maureen wiped the snow from her face.

"You kind of deserved it," Roger reminded her.

"Shut up, Guitar Hero," Maureen grunted. Roger only shrugged.

"Don't tell me this is going to devolve into an all-out snowball fight!" Mark sighed as he watched his roommate try to provoke his ex.

"OUCH!" Mark whipped around as he felt the snow hit the back of his head. Tom and Angel were stifling their laughter.

"It was all Angel!" Tom cried, snickering terribly.

"What? Oh, no you didn't! That was all you, honey!" Angel replied, laughing just hard.

"Alright, enough! Which one of you-?" before Mark could try to get a straight answer (why did he think he could get one of those from a gay man and his drag queen lover?) as to who threw the snowball, another one hit him. This time, it hit the side of his face.

"Roger!" Mark had seen his roommate do the deed out of the corner of his eye.

"It was Mimi," Roger replied.

"What? No it wasn't!" Mimi defended, but then she quickly knelt down, grabbed a handful of snow, and stood up again. "But this was!" she chucked the ball right into Roger's face and he yelped as the cold slid down his shirt.

"This means war!" the young guitarist bellowed, then neither he and everyone else was instantly on the ground, scrabbling at the snow and ready to attack, round after round being shot and taken.

"La vie boheme!" Maureen bellowed at one point before tackling Mark, which led him into knocking over Mimi. Many passersby stared in both disgust and disdain at the rabble, rolling around like idiotic little children, in the dirty snow of the New York streets, but no one said anything. Even if they had, however, it would've been entirely lost on the little band of friends, joined together by a common suffering and kept together by these moments of happiness and freedom that only a Bohemian could find. Sure, they might've looked stupid, rolling around in the cold gutters of the street, but the laughter was enough to keep them warm during the snowball fight and, suddenly, all of their cares had melted away.

They were all struggling, with rent, with drugs, with HIV and AIDS, with judgment and discrimination, with loss and grief, with depression and anxiety, with pain, with suffering… with death, but in between those moments of suffering, there were those moments of pleasure and they were what made it all worth it. Moments as small and silly as a late-night snowball fight were what kept the group together and reminded them why they woke up in the morning and continued to push society forward in being more open-minded to those who fell outside of the normal lifestyle. These moments of happiness, sprinkled around moments of sorrow and anger, were what made their lives bohemian.

 **AN: Just a short little fluff fic immediately after "La Vie Boheme". I haven't seen Rent in a long time, so I apologize if this seemed a little OOC or vague in terms of characterization, but I still had to honor it with a fic because, in hindsight, this was such a poignant, gorgeous and meaningful musical. I saw it as a kid and liked it for its humor and song. Now, as an adult, I am beginning to realize what a deep, powerful, meaningful show it really was, what with its queer and racial equality issues and the concept of homelessness, poverty, addiction, death and disease (namely HIV and AIDS) being so boldly addressed, especially back then. It's a very timely musical, in hindsight, and it deserved a spot in this 30-story anthology.**


	28. Day 28: Sibling Rivalry

"Pearl! Come on! Don't keep us waiting any longer!" Darton shouted up to his eldest daughter.

"Alright, Dad! I'm coming, I'm coming!" Pearl bellowed down.

"Your Dad and I are going to be old men by the time you finish!" Nick was the next to shout up to the girl.

"You already _are_ old men, Papa!" Pearl shouted back down the stairs.

"Oh no you didn't!" Nick pretended to scream in indignation. Pearl didn't bother to reply to this as she was finally ready to come downstairs. She smirked at her fathers as she descended the stairs.

"Told you I just needed a few more minutes," she bragged.

"Yes, and you look gorgeous," Darton and Nick both agreed.

"No she doesn't!" Priscilla, her younger sister by 10 years, interrupted. "She always looks ugly! The only difference now is that she's in a dress and she actually tried to do her hair today!"

"You little monster!" Pearl snarled, taking a step towards the child. Priscilla only stuck her tongue out, standing her ground. "I worked really hard on this and you know I've always wanted to work in fashion!" she continued.

"Well, you aren't very good," Priscilla crossed her little arms. Young and small as she was, she was unafraid of pretty much everything.

"Alright now, that's enough," Nick interrupted his quarreling daughters.

"But Dad!" _three_ voices complained, the first two being Pearl and Priscilla, of course, but the third being Darton.

"Darton!" Nick frowned at his husband.

"I just wanted to see who would win the sibling rivalry," the larger man raised his arms in defense.

"Oh, no, don't say that!" Nick despaired, but it was too late.

"I would've won!" Priscilla declared proudly.

"No you wouldn't!" Pearly snapped back. "I'm bigger, older, smarter and stronger! You would've lost!"

"Yeah, but if you hit me, I'm gonna tell Dad and Papa and they would ground you for your whole life!" Priscilla puffed out her chest proudly.

"And what do you think I'd be doing if I were confined to this house for the rest of my life, eh?" Pearl growled, crossing her arms as she scowled. Nick only gave his husband another despairing and angry look, but he said nothing else as they headed out to the car.

"Ooops," Darton muttered, entirely unrepentant. He was grinning as he and their two quarreling followed Nick outside.

There, in the car, the third and final child was already waiting. Her name was Poppy and she was right in the middle of her sisters, five years older than Priscilla and five years younger than Pearl. As of today, she was 13 years old and she was, by far, the quietest of the trio of girls. While Pearl was large and in charge and Priscilla was loud and proud, Poppy was just content with kind of being in that awkward and gray middle area. She wasn't as bossy as Pearl and she was far more polite than Priscilla, but she had the capacity to be relatively sharp and witty, if needed. It was just a mix of her own personality and her place in the family that kept her relatively subdued compared to the two extremes that were her older and younger sisters. Her fathers looked at her pityingly. They loved all three of their children, but they sometimes felt bad about how quiet Poppy was. That wasn't to say she was friendless or never went out, but it was clear she was the most forgettable of the three just because of her generally passive and introverted nature. Darton and Nick suddenly felt about having to subject her to her sisters' little sibling rivalry.

"Dad, Papa, do I have to listen to them on the whole drive over?" Poppy complained about five minutes into the drive, Priscilla and Pearl still going at it. Nick, who was driving, shot a look at his husband. Darton finally had the decency to look ashamed as he turned around.

"Sorry, kiddo," he told his middle child. "We can listen to the radio if-"

"I get dibs!" Priscilla shouted before Darton had even finished talking.

"What? No way! You picked last time!" Pearl snapped. "Papa, Dad! Why don't you be nice and let Poppy pick?"

Everyone in the car was surprised by this line, but the surprise faded relatively fast. It wasn't an act of kindness that made Pearl insist that Poppy pick the radio station, it was a tactic. The way she saw it, she her fathers wouldn't be very happy at the idea of letting her pick what station they listened to because she'd been just as bad as Priscilla in the past few minutes. That put her and the littlest one on even grounds. Pearl was gaining the advantage by changing her goal from getting to be the one to pick the station to making sure that it was anyone _but_ Priscilla. This opened up more options and a higher chance at victory for the eldest child and, the way she saw it, Poppy would be bound to win because of how polite and quiet she was being. If Pearl pretended to support Poppy before anyone else voiced this sentiment, it would make sure that Priscilla would never get to pick a station because she would be outnumbered, what with both of their fathers and even Pearl choosing Poppy as the victor. By forfeiting her chance to win, Pearl was ensuring that Priscilla lost. It was a petty tactic and both her sisters caught on, but their fathers did not and that was all Pearl needed. Her trick worked like a charm and Poppy got to pick the music, leaving Priscilla to pout.

"I hate you," she mouthed to Pearl.

"Ooops," Pearl shrugged sweetly. Poppy only smirked to herself. She had gotten into her own fair share of sibling rivalry but, for today it seemed, she was safe and was relegated as a gleeful spectator to the drama instead of an immediate participant. That was fine by her. No doubt, it would be her turn to quarrel with her sisters by the time tomorrow rolled around. For now, though? A tense but stable peace settled over the family of five and they continued on in their journey.

Where the group was going was quite simple, but at the same time, it was very fancy. It was a large dinner for the company Darton worked for. He was a higher-up in the staff, so he and his whole family got invited to this function. It was the reason Pearl had taken so long getting in style. She really did have a passion for fashion and the aesthetics of things and wanted every little last detail to be correct. It was a trait she shared with Darton. He, too, had taken quite awhile getting ready, only beating Pearl because he'd started his beautification process about an hour earlier. Had they started at the same time, though, it was anyone's guess as to who would've been ready first. It was Darton's keen sense of fashion/his eye for aesthetic that got him such a lofty position at his job in the first place, after all. But Nick and the other two weren't nearly as fashion-oriented. Sure, they all knew a little bit about how fancy clothing and makeup worked, but Darton and Pearl were the ones to go to if anyone else had any question about how they looked.

Pearl was dressed in an old-timey outfit. It was a slim white dress with several layers of tassels going down it. She wore a large strand of pearls and a long, fluffy white boa. She also wore very tall heels and silver headband with one small white feather sticking out of the front. Priscilla had, initially, teased her endlessly over it, saying she looked like a chicken. She stopped, however, when Pearl pointed out that the top half of the suit she was wearing didn't match the skirt half in terms of color and style (the skirt being a darker shade and obviously not part of the original outfit) and that she was wearing a fake tie and that the 'silver clip' she was wearing on that fake tie was actually just a large paperclip.

"You look like someone's really crappy cosplay," Pearl had remarked, which sent the youngest child into a fury as she was a diehard cosplayer and although she wasn't nearly as fashion-oriented as her sister, it still stung to hear that she hadn't worn her suit correctly. Hey, she was only eight.

"Oh, and you've got a smudge on your shoe," Pearl pointed out. Priscilla looked down. Sure enough, on her little gold heels, there was a black spot.

As for Poppy, she was wearing a suit as well but, unlike Priscilla, had everything down. The tie was real and she had tied it herself, the tie clip was one she'd borrowed from Nick and the top half and pants matched. In addition, her black shoes were gleaming. Unlike Priscilla, Poppy was far more acquainted with how masculine clothing of that caliber worked and, thusly, looked far more proper.

"You could've asked me," Poppy stuck her tongue out at her little sister. "But no, you just had to do it all on your own!" that had been Poppy's one hostile remark for the day before she skirted away to borrow one of Darton's large watches and maybe some cuff links just to finish off the look of a proper businessman. Nick looked exactly like his middle child, save that all his clothing were larger. Darton, however, had chosen to wear something more feminine, explaining why Poppy had been able to borrow his watch and cuff links. He wore a thin white dress shirt and a pale pink skirt that reached the floor. His dark hair was neatly combed back and he looked incredibly refined and professional.

So, being dressed to the nines, the Cross family was off to the fancy dinner event. All fingers were crossed that it would go without a hitch.

"Urgh! I hate this song!" Priscilla had crossed her arms again and was pouting.

"Hey! This is one of my favorite artists!" Poppy defended.

"But this song is so overplayed!" Priscilla whined.

"It's better than the stupid dubstep remixes, TouYube raps and nightcores _you_ listen to!" Poppy accused.

"Hey! That's all indie stuff that comes from your average joe!" Priscilla reminded her older sister. "This radio crap was sung by a girl worth millions and she still isn't even that good! Her stuff is all so repetitive!"

"Oh, and dubstep isn't?" Pearl butted in with a snort. "It's nothing but one single monotonous beat and a few bass drops. It's nothing creative!"

"Oh, because the emo music you listen to just oozes with deep, meaningful prose!" Priscilla rolled her eyes.

"It's not emo music! It's alternative rock, punk rock and metal!" Pearl huffed, sitting up straighter as she took personal offense to Priscilla's barb.

"Would you rather listen to some classical?" Nick interrupted, suddenly switching the radio to the station holding all of the old dead composers from centuries gone by.

"Ugh! No!" all three of the siblings were able to put aside their rivalry for that one. Nick and Darton both laughed before switching the radio back.

"Or we could always listen to some riveting weather news!" Darton grabbed the controls next.

"-forecast is cloudy, with a 70% chance of some scattered showers across the-"

"NO!" even Nick protested this one.

"No need to be so aggressive!" Darton laughed, switching the radio back again.

"That man has the world's most boring, monotonous voice in history!" Nick groaned. "I listen to old broadcasts to help me fall asleep!"

"You do not!" Darton cried, raising his eyebrows to show he didn't believe Nick, then his look grew sensual. "I mean, I should know…" he said.

"Gross, Dad!" Pearl interrupted as Poppy and Priscilla covered their ears.

"Oh, sorry, love!" Darton turned around to wink at his daughter. He knew she was gay too. He also knew she was single.

"Ugh," Pearl held her forehead in her hand. Darton turned back around with another laugh.

"Don't worry, you'll find a nice girl eventually," he promised. "Then you won't have to be jealous of Papa and I!"

"The day the weatherman's voice stops being so boring she will," Priscilla muttered.

"I heard that," Pearl kicked her youngest sister.

"Alright, no kicking!" Nick and Darton both quickly put an end to the fight. Arguing and bantering they could deal with, but there would be no physical violence. They didn't want any hospital visits, and they were willing to bet that their children would be more than capable of sending someone, including each other, to the hospital. Priscilla was a spitfire, Pearl could be very aggressive when her authority was challenged, and heck, even Poppy was unnaturally strong for a young girl of 12.

"Yes Fathers," three voices pretended to whine unhappily.

"Oooh! I love this song!" Nick cried as the song changed over. It was, of course, another pop song, as Poppy had chosen the Pop station, but it was one that was far more liked than the previous song. Nick began to bellow out the words with Darton keeping in perfect harmony.

"I think I'm gonna die," Pearl deadpanned.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Priscilla agreed, even pretending to gag.

"Just cover your ears and wait for the torture to end," Poppy suggested, already blocking her ears with her fingers. If there was one thing that put their sibling rivalry to rest, at least for a little, it was when their dads sang or made stupid jokes. Darton and Nick saw their daughters, ears all plugged, and laughed, only encouraged to sing even louder and even more off-key, just to spite the children. The three children winced. They knew both Nick and Darton had better voices than this, but hey, anything to make the kids suffer. Wasn't having two dads just the best thing ever?

"Ah, that was fun!" Nick sighed once the song was over.

"I have it on my phone," Darton said. "I even have the karaoke version! Should we listen to it again?"

"NO!"

 **AN: It's about time we see families with more than one queer member, so here we go. Every single one in this family is some sort of queer. And it's all bundled up in a cute little "family bickering" fic. Also, you won't really recognize any of these Denbar characters as they are all very minor, except Poppy, who is the main character of the second story ("Shadow Over Denbar"). She becomes Princeton in a couple of years, but at the time of this fic, still identifies as female/girl, hence the different name and pronouns.**


	29. Day 29: In the Garden

Two girls, both of them around the age of 16, wandered the Emerald City Palace gardens. The gardens, like the castle and the city which surrounded it, were vast, sprawling and green. Flowers, trees, vines, fruits and any combination of plants dotted the emerald landscape. There were several romantic little streams crisscrossing the expansive and endless pastures, passing by several benches, terraces and swings that dotted stone and grassy fields and trails. It was a beautiful and arcadian place.

"Ah, it is so wonderful to get a chance to actually enjoy all of this!" one of the girls, Dorothy Gale, took in a deep breath, the wild and fresh smells of the garden filling her head with a warm pleasantness.

"I agree," her companion, Princess Ozma, said. "It's so nice to just get a chance to relax and have a walk-about the royal garden instead of having to tramp through it to get to some new meeting!"

"Don't jinx it now," Dorothy warned with a laugh. "Or before you know it, one of your servants will come running out here, bellowing for you!"

"Oooh, you're right. Pretend that I said nothing," Ozma pretended to zip soft, warm lips with pale, slender fingers. Dorothy shook her head in amusement, brown curls gleaming a dark copper in the warm, golden summer sun.

The two girls were as close as any could be, all of their adventures in Oz only bringing them closer and closer with every passing day. They did practically everything together, even when apart. Whether it be Ozma or Dorothy who was away on some mission or forced to stay back and care for the Emerald City while the other was away, neither girl was ever too far away from the other. It was all thanks to a bunch of magic from Glinda, the Wizard of Oz, and Ozma herself. Dorothy and Ozma were able to speak no matter where they were in Oz, but still, nothing beat being alone together, not needing magic to speak with one another. It was a rare moment in the lives of these two Ozian queens that they were able to be together in such solitude for so long, so they made sure to make every last moment last. They were spending today's (currently) off-day, in the garden and just being with each other. It was paradise.

"So, what are you thinking we should do for dinner?" Dorothy asked as she and Ozma, hand and hand, walked by a garden of poppies.

"I am thinking that we request for the chef to make us something more summery," Ozma remarked. "Perhaps an array of fancy salads from some of our finest greeneries," the beautiful queen of Oz gestured all around herself and Dorothy. "I am in the mood for something that reminds me of June, and fruits and vegetables will do nicely."

"But what about our Cowardly Lion?" Dorothy asked, laughing. "You know he hates anything that's not meat! He won't be happy to come home after a long day helping build infrastructure only to be met with watermelon and lettuce!" she smiled fondly as she thought of her dear old friend. How could he consider himself a coward when he was so strong and brave? And he certainly wasn't afraid to voice his opinion when it came to foodly matters. Although he loved Ozma and Dorothy both, there was no doubt he would be put off if this grand dinner was strictly green.

"Ah, I suppose then, for the meat-eaters, we may have a barbecue," Ozma decided with a matching smile of amusement. The Cowardly Lion had been her bodyguard several times over, so she knew him very well and was quite fond of him, and vice versa. He was one of her closest friends. She would feel bad if she hadn't included him into the feast.

"Ah, that sounds delicious! I'm sure Uncle Henry, Auntie Em, and Toto will all love that too!" Dorothy clapped. It didn't matter how long she or her family had lived in Oz, they were still always amazed at the vast quantity and style of food that Ozian life had to offer, especially since they had come from a relatively small and poor background. They had pigs, cows and chicken, but that was about all in terms of meat, and once Uncle Henry ended up facing the risk of losing the farm, meat went down. To come to Oz and have an array of foreign and home-cooked meats in any way you could imagine was something none of them had thought possible and were still acclimating to even today.

"I suppose we'll just have to make sure Scarecrow stays away from the fire-pit," Ozma joked thinking fondly of her advisor. Aside from Dorothy, Glinda and maybe the Wizard of Oz himself, there was no one else Ozma trusted more than him. He was a fellow of vast intelligence, even if he didn't always believe it. He was wise and cunning and always had great ideas.

"Yes, let's leave all the fire and wood to the Tinman," Dorothy agreed with a laugh to match Ozma's. "He should be returning from the castle in the west today," she added. "It'll be so good to see him again!"

"Won't it?" Ozma agreed. "I do wonder if he plans on bringing any of the flying monkeys to join us. If so, I'll probably need to talk to the chef about adding more bananas to the list…" the beautiful young queen trailed off pensively as she continued to go down a mental checklist of who all might be joining them at this nice little summer banquet. The Wizard would probably help himself to the barbeque and Glinda would probably have some designer meal just brought to her. Who else did that leave for Ozma to look after?

The pair walked on in silence for a little longer, still thinking about what they were going to eat on this fine day in June. Then of course came the lighthearted banter of who was going to clean up.

"I cooked!" Ozma joked. "You clean!"

"But we did that yesterday!" Dorothy pretended to complain. "And every single day before that!" she added, referring to the fact that although she was a princess who was loved dearly by Ozma, Ozma did still technically outrank her.

"Oh, whatever!" Ozma grinned. "I spent enough time doing dishes as that little stable boy, Tip!"

Ozma was, of course, referring to her earlier days, before she realized that she was the true heir to Oz. Back then, she'd been forced to live as a boy, not even realizing that she was actually a girl until the witch who cursed her was defeated. With the curse broken, Ozma's true form was revealed, a beautiful woman and not a silly little boy. In that event, Oz got its queen and Ozma got her true identity. But even though that witch was powerless, Ozma still had this gender-swap spell in her arsenal, using it to help accommodate any of her subjects or friends who came to her, confessing that they were trans and felt wrong in the body they had been born in. This spell was revolutionary in helping people find their true selves, even though it had once been used to hide the true self away. But with wisdom and care, Ozma had turned all that on its head, using the spell for goodness and truth instead of lies, and it was a roaring success. Ozma knew what it felt like to spend a whole life thinking you were one gender only to start to feel differently. That uncertainty and strangeness was something Ozma had struggled with during her transition into a girl, but it was impossible to just go back to being a boy, because she wasn't. But she had overcome her doubt and was now happy to say that she was fully a girl.

"And you don't think I didn't do chores back in Kansas when I was still only a little farm girl?" Dorothy joked. If Ozma was going to try and use her tragic back story as leverage, Dorothy was going to give her a taste of her own medicine. "I'm sure I washed more dishes in one day than you did in one week as Tip! Remember, I had to look after my aunt, uncle, dog, and farmhands!"

"At least you had those farmhands to help!" Ozma reminded her friend, playfully sticking out her tongue.

"But I didn't have any sort of magic at all to help," Dorothy countered. "Surely you had something that made dishes a bit easier! What did I have?"

The two continued this joking banter of who ought to cook and who ought to clean, despite the fact that both chores would be done by servants, when Dorothy suddenly cut herself off midsentence. The two were still walking in the garden and Dorothy had spotted something towards an emptier part of the garden, in the back.

"Oh! Look!" Dorothy pointed out what she had seen. It was a little wooden swing, surrounded by a ring of flowers and tied to a large tree, hearts and names scattered all across and around its trunk.

"Ah, the Roost of Romance!" Ozma laughed. She'd nearly forgotten about this tired old swing because of how scarcely she had been able to come out this far without something, or someone, getting in her way and bringing her back to the palace.

It was a swing constructed even before her time. She couldn't remember which of the Ozmas had created it, she just knew from legends that it had been her wedding present to her husband. The reason she had chosen this swing in this particular spot was because the story said that her husband had once been a thief, intending to steal something from the castle. His route of entrance was through this emptier part of the garden. During that time, the Ozma had been in that lonely part of the garden, mourning how she had no one to love. That was when he came to her and, through dumb luck and an adventure, the two fell in love. Once they got married, this place of the garden became a hotspot for young lovers to come and hope for luck in all their relationships. How many times had peasants climbed over the garden wall just to sit in that sacred swing with their sweethearts? Well, all the names and hearts etched into the tree from which the swing swung was a clear indicator that the number was high. What people did for love!

"Shall we?" Dorothy gestured to the swing. Ozma smiled fondly at her dearest friend and allowed the other girl to sit her down. The two rested against the back of the swing, rocking it gently. For a few moments, there was only the gentle creak of the swing as the two fell in perfect peace and harmony with each other and the very nature and magic of the garden itself. There really was something special about this little old swing. Its love and magic were present, even so long after its creators had passed.

"I love you, Dorothy," Ozma said at last, finally opening her eyes and turning her head to look at her closest companion.

"I love you too, Ozma," Dorothy replied, then slowly, hardly aware of it, both girls leaned in closer and closer. Their kisses were small, gentle and short, but no less passionate than that of experienced lovers. In time, the two had forgotten everything. They'd forgotten the Scarecrow, the Tinman, the Cowardly Lion, Toto, Glinda, the Wizard, and all of Oz itself. All that filled either of their heads as they kissed was each other. Small, gentle, little kisses that were just as loving as that of the most passionate and fierce lovers in all of Oz.

The swing even stopped moving, neither girl propelling it forward. But then it began to move back and forth again, not that either girl noticed. Nor did they notice the smiling face that watched them for a moment before going back the way it came. The face belonged to none other than Glinda the Good. She had come to speak with Ozma about another conference with some of the mayors of Gilikin, but when she stumbled upon the scene of her queen kissing her princess, she stopped at once and smiled fondly.

Glinda, herself, had never been one for romance, but she was still quite the romantic. Seeing this tender scene, she gently bade for the swing to move again, rocking the two lovers back and forth as she watched for a moment more. Her little enchantment lasted long after she had respectfully turned away from the couple, deciding that the matter of Gilikin could wait. There would always be more mayors and malcontent and meetings to be had, but moments of love as true, innocent, deep and serene as this were rare. They had to be savored and nothing was worth interrupting them.

So while Glinda turned back towards the Emerald City Palace, leaving the two young lovers to swing gently back and forth, Ozma and Dorothy remained entirely unaware of Glinda's presence and subsequent absence. Instead, they were still very much lost somewhere over the rainbow, in their own little world that no one else could see. There, in that corner in the garden, two young lovers were in a perfect paradise that was only and entirely their own.

 **AN: So, we're back to where we started, coming into a full circle.**

 **IDK, it just felt right to me that if I started with Oz, I should end with Oz (though I know we technically have one more day left). But hey, if you think about it, Oz is really gay (Rainbows and something better being on the other side, a land of color and no more worries, Friends of Dorothy, Judy Garland, the whole Wicked series, etc).**

 **Oh, and of course, you can tell that this fic was based more off the original books than anything else, though I did raise the ages of Dorothy and Ozma. That was just because it felt weird writing this fic about 10-12 year olds. I understand that kids can have these little romances as they grow and I understand that kids can start identifying with a certain orientation or gender at a very young age, but I still personally preferred having them be 16 in this fic. It just felt more right, I guess. IDK, maybe I'm being a bit too prudish, but that's just me. I just really wanted this to be a romance fic as opposed to a self-discovery fic, in which case, the younger ages would've fit better. But it's fine by me if you wish to mentally change that 16 to a 10 and keep it as a childhood romance that'll continue into adulthood.**

 **Either way, hope you enjoyed. Please review! And get ready because we only have one day left! (Am I happy or sad about that? IDK yet).**


	30. Day 30: Fanfiction

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a large man snapped as Iris ran into him.

"Oops, sorry!" she apologized sincerely. The man only continued to give her a dirty look, sneering down his nose at her.

"These stupid millennials and their phones!" he muttered under his breath, then he was gone as quickly as he had come.

"I said I was sorry," Iris muttered under her breath as well, but someone still heard her. That someone was her girlfriend, Storm. The two of them were out at the store, grocery shopping. Or rather, Storm was shopping. Iris was intently reading her phone.

"You know, he has a point," the woman said. "You've been on that stupid thing all morning! I've hardly even seen your face because its been glued to your screen! You should put your phone down at least a little and actually live! Do something productive!" she insisted.

"Oh, shut up Storm," Iris grunted. "Just because you aren't into social media doesn't mean you need to scorn or shame those who are! I _am_ living. If you saw it the way I did, you'd understand that social media _does_ open a person up. Think about all the people and info I have at my fingertips. How can you say I'm not being productive or living? I've seen and met more people on this little device than I have anywhere else in this world," the girl shook her phone insistently.

"Alright, alright, Triggered Millennial. There's no need to get so defensive," Storm taunted, leaning against the shopping cart she had.

"First off, you know full well I only get triggered when you call me triggered," Iris began in irritation, Storm's attempts to get under her skin starting to work. "Second off, you know I don't like using that term just because it really is supposed to be a medical term reserved for those who have legitimate triggers, not just something that ticks them off."

"Hmm, that _is_ true," Storm said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, and it was something I read off the _internet_ ," Iris waved her phone with a smirk. "Someone pointed out how it might not be appropriate to use a medical term in such casual and satirical conversation in case it devalued the actual thing, something I would've never even considered without, you guessed it, the _internet_!"

"But then again, that term might not have even became part of the mainstream without social media," Storm pointed out.

"Oh, whatever," Iris grunted. "Besides, I wasn't even on a social media site this time. I was on a fanfiction site. There's a really good story out!"

"Wait! Fanfiction? You read _fanfiction_?" Storm scoffed, laughing in disdain.

"I write it too," Iris defended with a calm shrug. She was used to people mocking her when she confessed to being a fanfiction fan. Having to defend her passion was an old battle and she was getting less and less hurt by remarks like this, even from her lover.

"Seriously? You actually write that fake, wannabe, cash-grab trash?" Storm shook her head. "That isn't _real_ literature."

"Sure it is," Iris argued, overlooking Storm's cruel remark about fanfiction. "You're right that there are some crappy, poorly-written stories out there, but most of them are really good. They're all done out of passion and they're all done for free. There's nothing wannabe or cash-grabbing about fanfiction. I don't think many authors are in it for the publicity and certainly no one is in it for pay. Would any other author be willing to do what a fanfiction writer does? I think not!" the tiny brunette said passionately.

"Well, ok, so you got me there. Fanfiction is free where real literature is not," Storm allowed. "But fanfiction is amateur stuff!"

"Perhaps anyone is able to post," Iris agreed. "But there are a lot of really, genuinely amazing stories out there! They have good plots, realistic development, stellar grammar, etc. Often, fanfiction writers are passionate about what they do and, thusly, try to do their best every single time. That means lots of editing and refining, even if there are still mistakes in the end. It's not as rookie as you think. People put a lot of time and effort into their works and it shows, both in what occurs in the story and how grammatically correct it's formatted."

"Ok, ok," Storm allowed again.

"But that's why fanfiction is so amazing!" Iris continued. "I love fanfiction because it's so full of that love and passion and it's a chance for people with a common interest to unite and talk about that interest. Fanfiction can give you so many new perspectives and scenarios for your favorite already-existing stories to go through, even when the credits have rolled or the book has closed or the curtains have fallen!"

"Well, what fanfiction is it?" Storm asked finally. She was still a bit skeptical about the academic legitimacy of fanfiction, but as Iris explained how it built lasting friendships and skills as a writer/communicator and thinker, she relented a little. After all, wasn't the only difference between fanfiction and "real literature" where it was posted? Because a lot of real literature _was_ fanfiction. Think about every story based around religion, like Dante's _Inferno_ , or any story set with the Civil War as a backdrop, like _Gone_ _with the Wind_ , or books like _Wicked_ which took a preexisting story and rewrote it a little. Maybe fanfiction wasn't as dumb as it seemed.

"It's a Twilight fanfiction," Iris gave her phone to Storm.

"Oh, nope, nope, nope!" Storm grunted. Ok, so she could call fanfictions like the aforementioned three Real Literature, but she was so not going to call any stupid little internet fever dream from a teen-girl about a sparkly vampire Real Literature. She pushed the cart away from Iris.

"Hey, this is one of the good ones!" Iris defended, chasing after Storm. "Besides, you already know I'm Twilight fan!" she added.

This was another thing she had great skill in defending because Twilight, like fanfiction, often received a lot of scorn. Iris was willing to agree that some of the scorn was warranted, especially in regard to the less-than-healthy relationship between the leads, but other things seemed kind of petty and stupid. Sure, glittering vampires was a bit ridiculous, but that was something Iris was willing to overlook. Even if one didn't like the Twilight storyline, the Twilight world was quite interesting. Iris felt that a lot of people would like Twilight more if there were less Edward and Bella, ironic as that seemed.

"Good ones? Twilight was a piece of trash! How can anything better come from it?" Storm sneered.

"You haven't even read the books or seen the movies. How can you be so sure it's crap?" Iris challenged.

"Because so many others have already told me horror stories about it," Storm replied with a disgusted face.

"But just because the Majority says something doesn't mean they're right," Iris reminded. "Besides, Storm, you are a self-proclaimed lone-wolf. When have you ever taken the opinion of the Majority without at least a little scrutiny?"

"Point taken," Storm grunted. Iris was right about Storm being infamous for questioning authority and the Majority, so it was almost out of character for her to judge a book before reading it herself, even if she would still hate it after she read it.

"Here, just skim a few paragraphs," Iris handed Storm the phone again as she returned to the first chapter. Storm gave Iris a wary look, but she obliged, pulling the cart over to the end of the aisle and reading.

A few hours later, Storm was scowling at the TV screen.

"Why in the name of anything would Bella choose one of those two losers?" she demanded as Edward and Jacob had their 326th fight over Bella. "That fanfiction was way, way better! Bella would be so much better off with Alice and then Edward and Jacob could go off and-"

"Told ya," Iris grinned. Just as suspected, Storm ended up getting just as hooked on the Twilight AU fanfiction as she had and had refused to give Iris back her phone until she finished the story. That meant Iris had to steal Storm's phone so that she could keep reading too. Both of them ended up running into several other people through the rest of their shopping trip, but neither of them cared at that point, too invested in the fanfiction.

Then, as soon as they got home, Storm agreed to marathon the Twilight films with Iris. They honestly weren't as bad as she'd feared, but there was still a crap ton of cringe in every single one, ranging from the stupid dialogue to the petty fights to the forced (physically and emotionally) romance between the cast and characters to the emotionless faces and voices, but Storm was in it for the story. She just wished there was less brooding and better actors and, as she told Iris, a different couple. The Twilight world was fine, but the story needed work. A lot of work.

"That fanfiction made it so credible and logical!" Storm continued to complain over Edward and Jacob. "Alice always looked after Bella when no one else would, including her knight in sparkling armor, and Edward and Jacob spend so much time bragging about who's hotter that they might as well just admit that they're gay!" the woman continued to rant against the movies and for the fanfiction she and Iris read.

"That's the beauty of fanfiction," Iris grinned. "You get to choose the character arcs for yourself, if the real one doesn't please you."

"Your darn right it doesn't!" Storm muttered.

After the marathon was done, Storm excused herself. Iris grinned, imaging that the woman was either going to go bleach her eyes or read some gay fanfictions to help her recover from the "aggressive heteronormativity" in the Twilight series. Iris understood where Storm was coming from, but she didn't think there was really anything wrong with having a story with all straight characters. Maybe in the future, there would be more Twilight spinoffs that would have queer characters, but until then, Iris could be patient and look to fanfiction for her representation. That was another plus to the online writing world. If the original canon didn't have good representation, someone would definitely pick up the slack online.

(One thing Iris always wondered about were trans vampires. Apparently, Twilight vampires had skin as hard as the diamonds they resembled, so surgery would be impossible. Would that mean a trans vampire would be stuck in the body of a gender they didn't identify with? Or would some vampire, maybe Dr. Carlisle, invent some medical/magical process that could help a trans vampire out? Or would it be possible for a vampire to change gender as it changed from human to vampire? Some fanfics had written that turning into a vampire revealed your truest and most inner soul, hence why vampire powers always reflected the traits said vampires had while still human. If that were the case, maybe a vampire's gender would change to match who they really were? Since there were no canon trans vampires, everything was up for debate.)

Iris ended up being wrong, though. Storm wasn't just reading Twilight fanfiction, she was _writing_ it.

"Who are you, and what have you done with the real Storm?" Iris joked as she sauntered over to Storm, who was typing madly at her computer.

"Just writing a better ending to the saga where Alice hooks up with Bella," Storm grunted, all dignity forgotten in what she considered a personal attack to anyone with good taste. She was hunched over at her chair. Iris only laughed and shook her head, standing behind Storm.

"You know I write stories too," she said after a moment. "We should do something together, or cross-promote."

"Sure," Storm grunted. "But I'm only gonna review the gay stories you have."

"That's still like 80% of the stories I write," Iris deadpanned. "The other 15 % are non-romantic and then the last 5 % are straight."

"Ah, true," Storm acknowledged. "How many have you written so far?"

"Over 300," Iris replied.

"300?!" Storm bellowed, turning away from her screen.

"I have too much time on my hands!" Iris nodded serenely. Storm could only stare at her, mouth agape. 300?!

But once Storm finally managed to recover from that little shock, she managed to ask Iris for her fanfiction ID.

"What's your username?" she asked next as she finished up her story. Iris grinned in satisfaction.

"It's lrhaboggle," she said.

"It's what?" Storm turned away from her screen again.

"Don't ask. I was always told not to use any real info in my username," Iris said.

"Ah, makes sense," Storm nodded, turning back to her screen. She was just about to post her first fanfiction. Iris felt like a proud mother! Then, once it went up, Storm made sure to add a little shout out at the bottom of the screen:

 _Inspired off my fellow fanfiction author, lrhaboggle. Please check out lrhaboggle's stories and read and review! lrhaboggle has a lot of good gay stuff for you to sift through!_

"Well, it's not a lie," Storm reasoned when Iris laughed at the last sentence.

"True. The fanfiction world as a whole seems pretty queer and into queer stuff," Iris admitted. "That's why I love it so much. It seems that, in some circles, the gay ships are far more numerous and popular than their canon straight ships," the tiny brunette trailed off as she thought about all her OTPs. About half were lesbian, a fourth were gay, a fifth included nonbinary characters who couldn't technically identify as gay because of gender differences, and then whatever remained were straight. Wow. She was more shamelessly gay than she thought.

"Good thing the rest of the fanfiction world seems to follow suit," Iris whispered to herself, thinking about how some of the biggest ships in the sea of fanfiction were gay (Harry x Draco, Elphaba x Glinda, Enjolras x Grantaire, Lafontaine x Perry, Percy x Nico, Will x Nico, Sherlock x Watson, Rizzoli x Isles, Ginny x Luna, Spock x Kirk, Clarke x Lexa, etc).

"This place is a gay paradise!" Storm said aloud, summing up Iris' overall feelings of the world of fanfiction. Sure, there were a lot of straight ships, and there was nothing wrong with that, but there were also armadas upon armadas of gay ones, more so than what was found in canon media. That was where the paradise began.

And even in stories where there was no romance at all, there was still so much beauty, love and newness. Fanfiction gave the world something different to mull over and something fresh to get excited for! A good fanfiction was always worth a read! So Iris and Storm spent the next few hours reading all kinds of fanfiction of varying length, genre and fandom. They read cute fluff fics, beautifully painful angst fics and rather sexy smut fics and then everything in between and back again. They read romantic and platonic, AU and sequels, OCs and crossovers.

At last, however, Iris remembered something.

"Move over," she insisted at last after she and Storm finished a Harry Potter story. "I want to update one of my own stories today."

"What? How many more are you planning on writing?" Storm demanded. She had a lot of work to do if she was going to read and review all of lrhaboggle/Iris' works. The last thing she needed was for the crazy girl to write anything else.

"I've been doing an anthology all of Pride Month," Iris said. "One story per day. I've got to post the one for June 30th."

"Wonderful," Storm sighed.

"Just give me five minutes," Iris pleaded. "Then we can go back to reading our gay fanfictions."

"Fine," Storm agreed with Iris' terms. Iris smiled up at her from the chair, then, the little authoress got to work on her latest story.

 **AN: So, for worse or for better, it's the end of Pride Month 2018. I hope you all have had a happy, safe month and that you all celebrated in some fashion. I'm going to miss writing these "short" stories and getting to celebrate my identity, but I know this isn't over forever. This is only a temporary goodbye. But hey, like the shameless self promotion said, I've got hundreds other things for y'all to read and review, so… (Also, I so do not regret being meta and self-promoting in this finale. It's a fitting end, if you think about it).**


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